#it's starting to NOT look like a word anymore. help

[rodolfoparras]

PLEASEJADGW I AM NEW, SPEAK ABT THE THE SOFT COCK FOR ME AGAIN

Thinking about hooking up with a divorced father whose only company for the past years has been the bear bottles in his fridge.

He’s greedy as ever as he sloppily licks into your mouth, lips tasting of whatever he had at the bar, practically moaning like a little slut while grinding down on your cock. His poor worn out coach is barley able to hold your weight but he couldn’t care less about that as he continues to hump you like some horny teenager.

Everything’s going well or at least you think so and soon you find yourself nestled between his thighs, hands swiftly pulling down his pants along with his boxers, hungrily watching as his cock spills out.

There isn’t much to the size but there’s some girth to his dick, shaft flushed an angry red and tip already weeping from just a little teasing.

Suddenly you find yourself eager as ever to get your mouth around him. However you don’t get much further than that before you feel him go soft in your mouth, with the older man looking absolutely horrified, apologizes rolling off of his tongue as he tries to get out of your grasp “fuck fuck- I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened,”

You don’t respond nor do you loosen your grip leaving the man looking both frazzled and confused where he lays pinned beneath your body. “What are you doing son? Let me go!”

Before he can say or do anything else you sink back down on him again, leaving the man loudly gasping as he bucks up into you “ahah! Fuck!”

As you work your mouth on him, you can’t help but notice how much smaller he feels. Cock fully soft yet so girthy. The weight of it on your tongue leaves you feeling numb but instead of having it be a frigid cold that encomposes your bones it’s a certain warmth that starts from the top of your head and works its way down to your toes.

The man beneath you seems frozen in place, looks at you with wide eyed and mouth agape as if he can’t believe this is happening. “ Jesus Christ You like this huh?” You hear him say but there’s no bite to his words, sounding more in disbelief if anything as his hand tentively cradles your skull.

Instead of responding you take him all the way down, obscene squelching sounds mingling with his whines and whimpers, only fully stopping when you’re buried in the fringe of curls and you got his balls pressed snug against you.

“Okay okay fuck you really like this yeah? Show me ah - show me how greedy you are for this soft cock then,”

Without wasting another second you do as he says,this time going at a much slower pace since your goal isn’t to get him off anymore but rather to feel all of him, and that’s exactly what you do as you bob your head down, mind focused on how hot and velvety he feels under your tongue.

“Fuck just like that, suck this old man’s cock,” he says through gritted teeth, the hand in your hair turning rougher as he yanks on it. “You know my wife never liked it when I got soft, fuck- she ah- she even left because of that but you? God you suck it like you were made for it,”

His words paired with the bitter taste lingering on your tongue makes you hungry for more and before you know of it you find yourself sucking harder, head bobbing erratically and losing yourself in the feeling of him jerking against the roof of your mouth, the way you can easily take more and more and more of his soft cock without chocking up, and the feeling of his spit slicked balls sliding against you with every thrust.

“God yes ah yes yes,” he gasps out but it’s not long before he pulls you away from his cock and you’re almost ashamed of the pitiful sound that escapes your mouth.

“Shh shh easy there, “ he coaxes out as he strokes your head “we’re going to have plenty of fun I promise, go and get that bottle of lube for me yeah?”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Thinkin’ bout me || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @chenslucy

Summary: inspired by the lyrics of “thinkin’ bout me” Morgan Wallen 🤗🤗

Warnings: slight angst ig

Word count: 1,964

A/n: I rlly wanna do one with a Zach Bryan song but the ideas aren’t coming to me 😔

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Don't know where you at, don't know where you've been. Don't know nothin' 'bout that boy you're into.

It had been two months since you’d left, pulling yourself out of Rafe’s orbit so completely that he’d almost started to believe you’d vanished for good. Then tonight, here you were, mingling at the yacht party like nothing had happened.

Only now, an unfamiliar blonde had his arm wrapped casually around your waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your hip as you leaned in close to hear him over the music, a bright, carefree smile lighting up your face. Rafe’s stomach twisted at the sight.

He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he could see the way you laughed at something the guy said, your head tipping back as if his words were the funniest thing you’d heard all night. The version of you he saw now felt almost foreign to him—like he’d been replaced by someone who wasn’t weighed down by your shared past.

Maybe you really were happier, but seeing you with someone else so soon cut deeper than he’d anticipated. It was the smile that got to him the most—the one he remembered as his—now aimed at someone else.

Don't feel bad for you, but I feel bad for him. And all the hell you gon' be puttin' him through. Probably tell him we're a burnt out flame. Probably tell him that I ain't been on your mind. How I ain't nothin' but a long gone thing. You can cuss my name, but baby, don't you lie

The unfamiliar blonde looked wildly out of place in the gleaming luxury of the yacht party, as though he’d just wandered into the wrong scene altogether. He had a wholesome air about him that felt like it belonged more to a Kildare bonfire than this slick, exclusive gathering. Rafe’s jaw clenched as he watched the guy, wondering what you could possibly see in someone so blatantly average.

“Who are you staring at?” Topper’s voice broke into his thoughts, a teasing chuckle in his tone as he followed Rafe’s gaze. He spotted you almost immediately, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “Oh. She looks good—”

“Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t wanna hear it,” Rafe muttered, not breaking his stare. He didn’t need anyone telling him how good you looked; he already knew. Topper just threw his hands up, backing off with a smirk. Before Topper could throw in another comment, you shifted, turning around just enough to spot him.

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, catching the way you froze for a split second and in that instant, he saw the flicker of nerves in your expression. Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, watching the way you subtly fidgeted under his stare. He could practically see the wheels turning in your mind as you quickly turned back to the guy beside you.

The blonde followed your gaze, catching sight of Rafe and Topper watching. His expression tightened just slightly, his eyes darting back to Rafe every few seconds, clearly trying to size him up. Rafe’s smirk widened; he knew exactly what was going through the guy’s mind. You were probably telling him some watered-down version of what you and Rafe had been—a burnt-out flame, a chapter you’d left behind.

Maybe you were painting Rafe as the villain, the one you’d gotten over, glossing over the parts that didn’t fit. Even cussing him out just to make it seem like you’d moved on. But he saw right through it. He knew the kind of hell you’d probably put this guy through, the stories you’d tell him, the ways you’d pretend you’d forgotten.

He’d been in your life long enough to know you, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for this poor bastard. He didn’t feel bad for you—not anymore. But for the guy who thought he’d won you over? Rafe almost pitied him. He had no idea the hell you’d eventually put him through, just like you’d put Rafe through.

When you're tastin' what he's drinkin', are you thinkin' 'bout me? When you're ridin' where he's drivin', are you missin' my street?

Rafe’s eyes lingered on you, the smirk slipping into something colder as he watched you lean closer to the blonde, your laughter ringing out over the music. But he saw right through it. He knew you well enough to pick up on the tiny tells—the way you glanced over your shoulder just slightly, probably checking if he was still watching.

You were putting on a show, and he knew it. He could almost picture it: you, lifting a drink to your lips, tasting the same burn of bourbon he used to pour you, and wondering if it would ever hit the same. Or maybe it was later, on some midnight drive as the blonde took you back home, the car turning down familiar roads but never quite the right ones. He could almost feel that ache settling in you when his road, the one leading up to Tannyhill, passed by without a pause.

You might be so close, just one turn away, and yet still missing that feeling of belonging you’d only ever felt pulling into his place, the street you’d once called home. He could feel Topper glancing his way, but he didn’t care, didn’t let up. He wanted to make sure you knew he was still there, that he was watching you, and that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t just erase him. Not from those old habits, not from those half-forgotten memories that clung to you like shadows.

And even as you turned back to the blonde, pretending you didn’t care, he could tell. Somewhere, deep down, he knew you’d feel that same hollow ache—the same one he was feeling right now—whenever you tasted what he was drinking or found yourself driving down a street that just didn’t feel the same.

Every time you close your eyes, tell me, who do you see. Comin' over tonight, wish that truck in your drive was mine. Just like you know it's supposed to be

Every time you closed your eyes, he wondered if it was his face you still saw, if memories of him filled those moments you tried to shut out. He imagined you lying awake, maybe with that blonde by your side, but when you let your guard down, it wasn’t him you’d see. It was Rafe, pulling up to your place, the sound of his truck rumbling in the driveway as he walked up to your door, familiar and steady as if he’d never left.

He could picture it so clearly—his truck parked outside, headlights washing over your front porch, the way he’d make himself at home in your space without a second thought. Rafe knew you could pretend all you wanted, but when you closed your eyes, he’d be there, waiting in those memories you could never quite shake. And somewhere, deep down, he knew you’d feel that pang of regret every time you wished that truck in your drive was his.

When you're up in his bed, am I up in your head? Making you crazy, tell me, baby, are you thinkin' 'bout me?

He couldn’t help but wonder if, in those quiet hours of the night, when you were lying beside him, it was his name that slipped into your mind uninvited. When you were up in that guy’s bed, was it him who filled your thoughts instead—if the memory of his hands, his voice, his presence stayed just beneath the surface, making it impossible to forget. He wanted to know if he’d left a mark, lingering even now, pushing you to the edge of madness as you tried to convince yourself you’d moved on.

Rafe moved in quietly, blending into the crowd, making his way closer as he watched the blonde step away, leaving you alone for the first time all night. He didn’t hesitate, just closed the distance, eyes fixed on you with that knowing look you’d tried to ignore. Reaching for a glass, he pretended to pour himself a drink, but his attention was fully on you, his voice low and taunting.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, “are you thinkin’ ’bout me?” The words hung in the air between you, his gaze steady, daring you to look away. He didn’t need to say anything else. The challenge was in his eyes, his tone, the slight smirk playing at his lips as he watched your reaction. He knew he was under your skin, that no matter how hard you tried, memories of him had a way of creeping back. And now, standing close enough to feel the tension humming between you, he was waiting, pushing just enough to make you wonder if he’d ever really left your thoughts.

You swallowed, eyes narrowing as you tried to brush off the effect he still had on you. But the heat of his presence was unmistakable, almost magnetic, pulling you into that familiar territory you’d been trying so hard to avoid. His eyes searched yours, unreadable, but you caught the flicker of something darker beneath the surface—a mixture of anger, curiosity, maybe even the smallest hint of longing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice steady, forcing a smile that you hoped would mask the way your pulse quickened. But Rafe’s smirk only grew, as if he could see right through your act. He leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Sure, keep tellin’ yourself that.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in as he stared at you side profile before chuckling to himself.

“But we both know who’s really on your mind tonight.” You felt a shiver roll down your spine, his proximity making it impossible to ignore the pull between you, the way his presence filled every corner of your mind despite the months apart. He lingered there, eyes never leaving yours, daring you to deny it, to keep pretending he was just a part of your past.

“You look good,” he added, voice soft, with just the slightest edge. “But maybe that’s ’cause I remember how you used to look at me.” The words hit harder than you’d like, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that left no room for anything else. You wanted to come up with something quick, something sharp to throw back at him. But for a second, you just stood there, caught in the moment, feeling the weight of every memory between you—the late nights, the laughter, the arguments, the way he’d looked at you like no one else ever had.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus likes to stare at you

cw: suggestive themes, hardcore pinning, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, obsessive thoughts, yandere?? optimus i guess, bro is down bad for you

word count: 995

an: had a blast wiritng this, i love making characters disgustingly obsessed with reader lmao

He was doing it again.

Optimus is a calculated being. He didn’t make rash decisions, never threw words to the wind. Every action he took had meaning; none were purposeless or born of impulse or whim. He was crafted to be the perfect leader, to guide thousands, millions. He was supposed to be an authority, the alpha and omega, someone to be respected, admired, and followed. But there was one creature who turned his philosophy upside down and broke his facade.

He blinked once, twice. His optics returned to reading the report on the datapad. However, not even ten seconds of focus passed—a return to being the Prime—and his attention was anchored somewhere else again.

He couldn’t tell anymore, was he doing it on purpose or automatically? A force stronger than him, stronger than Primus himself, was pulling his optics toward that one being capable of breaking him. In the presence of this rare power, he was truly defenseless, revealing to everyone close to him the truth of his feelings, the intensity of which surpassed his wildest expectations. They had grown beyond his control, fierce and unyielding, like a wild beast impossible to tame.

He knew it was inappropriate, and unfitting for you and his friends; he should have restrained the beast before it became a problem. But he hadn’t. He had failed, and another burden had taken residence on his shoulders.

You laughed, and his optics instantly shifted to you. His spark throbbed pleasantly, distracting him from tormenting his very being. He adored that sound, rejoicing every time he heard it. It was melodic, soothing, and calming. In an instant, it tamed his chaotic processor, now focused solely on you, the real you. Optimus observed every smile, frown, and wrinkle on your face with great curiosity, even though he had done it countless times. He watched your chest rise and fall, counting how many breaths you took in a minute. He searched for any abnormalities or signs of illness. Nothing escaped his attention.

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the report. Not when you were so close to him, when he knew there was a microscopic chance you’d start a conversation with him. You’d honor him and look at him, too. He didn't dare to ask for more. He longed, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself that—at least not now. For the sake of keeping an image, he still held the datapad in his hand, but his thoughts were circling around you.

You were discussing something with Miko about a topic he didn’t understand, related to Earth’s video games. For some time now, he had planned to gather knowledge about them, so he could have conversations with you beyond his comfort zone, aligned with your interests. He wanted to be more approachable, and friendly, enticing you to spend more time with him. Amidst the stream of words, he caught a single one, which he assumed was a title, and made a mental note to study it later. Would you be happy to see him as someone worth talking to? Would you smile, let him hold you on his servo or shoulder? Help ease a processor constantly focused on unknowns and daydreams?

Content simply to be in your presence, yet fantasizing about something deeper, more intimate, he was still intently watching you. He had drifted so far from shore that he acknowledged Jack's and Rafael’s greetings a second too late. He nodded to the kids and briefly watched as they climbed onto the couch beside you. You had a way with children, caring for them, and helping with their school projects, but most importantly, you were their friend. Seeing you surrounded by children had an effect on Optimus—a feeling he was even frightened to contemplate because it easily took over him, pulling him away from reality, creating visions that would never come true, no matter how much he wanted them to.

"You are crossing the line," he reminded himself, fully aware that he had crossed it long ago. The cup had overflowed; there was no going back. Primus, he had just daydreamed about having offspring with a different species.

The truth was, despite all the self-flagellation, despite the hatred for what he had become, the ruin he had brought upon himself, he didn’t want to stop. You were a pleasant distraction from the war, death, and suffering that had accompanied him since becoming Prime, and for now, he didn’t plan to (couldn't) let go of that distraction. This didn’t mean his little obsession with you was painless—quite the contrary. However, those brief moments when your attention was focused on him, when you shared your touch as you traveled with him through Jasper when you looked only at him, made up for all the pain, torment, and hell he went through. Then there was no war, no Decepticons, no Optimus Prime. There was only him and you.

One last time, he tried to return to the report, but this time it wasn’t his illusions sabotaging his work. This time, it was you.

“Optimus,” your voice freed him from the prison of his thoughts. “I’d totally understand if you don’t have time to leave the base. But… would you perhaps like to drive me home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course, [Name],” he replied immediately because refusing you made no sense.

“Can’t you ask Bumblebee instead of dragging Optimus to fulfill your whims?” Ratchet intruded into the conversation.

“That will not be a problem for me,” Optimus assured, with an unusually stern tone aimed more at the medic than at you. “I am at your service, [Name].”

“Thank you!”

He transformed and waited patiently for you to join him. He opened the door, and once you climbed into the seat, he fastened the seatbelt himself. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the slow pace he had settled upon, that this time he had decided to be selfish, savoring the unrestrained pleasure of your privacy.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another instalment of the tik tok mat series! featuring liana! this was another suggestion from an anon and i just love writing these three and their dynamic so this was fun - i hope you guys enjoy 😊

word count: 3.2k

tw: nothing but good clean fun

summary: during a visit, you and liana convince mat to join you in another tik tok video, with a twist

“What are you two plotting?” Mat’s sudden appearance in the kitchen startles you and you jump a little. Next to you, Liana yelps and smacks her knee against the cabinet.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters, reaching down to rub at the spot that’ll definitely be bruised tomorrow. She scowls at Mat, which he ignores.

“Jesus,” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly while your heartbeat gets back to normal. “We’re not plotting.” Your tone is slightly petulant.

Mat comes up behind you and slots himself at your back, arms on either side of you caging your body against the kitchen island. He kisses the back of your neck and play humps your ass.

Liana fake gags, sticking her index finger in her mouth. “You’re disgusting. And what she said. Plotting makes it sound so nefarious, we’re just planning something,” she kicks at Mat’s socked foot with her own and he kicks back.

“Plotting, planning. Same difference when it comes to you two,” Mat retorts, keeping his chest pressed to your back when he leans in to grab a tortilla chip out of the open bag on the counter and swipe it through the bowl of guac in front of you. He chomps noisily on the chip, right in your ear, and you reach back to swat at his stomach. Mat takes a small step back so he’s not as loud in your ear.

“Don’t get guac on me,” you complain a little, trying to wiggle out of Mat’s embrace. All it serves to do is get your ass pressed against his crotch. Mat laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back against him.

He presses a kiss behind your ear and mutters quietly, “say the word and I’ll kick Li out right now.”

Your laugh is overshowdowed by Liana’s outraged cry of, “I can hear you, dumbass! I’m standing right next to you!”

“In the kitchen that I own,” Mat shoots back, still hugging you.

Before they start bickering even more and derail yours and Liana’s plans, you hold up your hands and shoot a wide-eye, raised eyebrows look at your boyfriend’s sister. “How about we don’t turn a lovely visit into a Barzal brawl?” You say, tone placating.

Liana immediately relaxes, her lips tipping up in a half-smile. Mat’s arm loosens around your shoulders and you lean easily against his chest.

“Yeah, okay,” they both mutter at the same time and you can’t help but laugh at the identical tone and inflection.

Mat’s hips work lazily against your ass and you know it’s a subconscious movement, a tic that he can’t help when he’s pressed close to you. It used to be insanely distracting, but you’re so used to it by now, you barely even notice anymore.

“Why don’t you join us for a Tik Tok?” You ask Mat, leaning your head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “Liana and I have like a whole bunch of videos we want to make while she’s here.”

It’s a partially true statement. You do have a couple of videos that would be fun to make with her while she’s visiting for a long weekend, but conning Mat into a video is the main plan.

“Your videos always do the best when I join,” Mat brags in an overly smug tone. He kisses your forehead and you know he’s teasing. But again, another partially true statement. You had a solid social media following, but once you started dating Mat, your follower count exploded and the videos that he pops up in are the ones that get shared the most. Especially on Twitter and the random fan cams you stumble on while you scroll.

Liana scoffs. “God, the ego on you is ridiculous,” she tosses a grape at Mat’s head. He catches it and pops it into his mouth, grinning.

“I could boost your following too, Li,” he offers. “I know you get a bump when I appear. It’s my natural charm and charisma.”

Both you and Liana burst out laughing, drowning out Mat’s offended protests. He complains that you’re being mean to him and you turn in his arms to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, tasting salt from the tortilla chip and cilantro from the guac. “Shush,” you tease, “we’re keeping you humble.”

He scowls at you, nose wrinkling, and you press your lips together to smother a smile because he’s adorable when he’s annoyed.

“If you’re mean to me, I’m leaving the video,” he warns finally. You know he doesn’t mean it, Mat loves being part of yours and Liana’s business too much.

“If you two are done playing grab ass,” Liana interrupts, sure enough, Mat’s hands are gripping your ass cheeks like his life depends on it. “Can we get filming before we have to get changed for dinner?”

You slip away from Mat with a giggle and grab your coffee mug off the counter, your phone in your other hand. Mat grabs the Tostitos and the guac and follows you both to the couch. He plops down, spreading his knees wide, in the middle of the couch with his snack resting on his thigh.

“So what did I actually agree to do?” He asks while you and Liana each take a seat on the floor in front of the couch. You prop your phone up against a pair of coffee table books and the plastic case for NHL 24.

Liana starts to explain, “basically, we’re giving you questions and you have to pick which of us it applies to. Like, you know stuff out of a high school yearbook or whatever.”

“It’ll make sense when we start,” you pipe up, opening Tik Tok. You make Mat shift a few inches to the right so all three of you are in the frame and ask, “ready?”

The siblings nod and Mat digs into the chip bag, just as you’re starting to speak. Liana rolls her eyes at him.

“Hey guys,” you lean in towards the camera, “we’ve got a house guest for a long weekend, I think you’re familiar with her?”

Liana waves at the camera, smiling. “Hey! We figured since this is the first time I’ve been in the same country as big bro since the summer, we should mark the occasion with a Tik Tok.”

“I’m here under duress,” Mat snarks, giving the camera a big, cheesy grin. “And the snacks,” he lifts the bowl of guac. “A Squeaks specialty.”

“Perfect segue to the game,” Liana chirps, pulling out her phone and tapping open the Notes app. “We’re going to ask Mat questions and he has to pick which one of us it applies to. So, first we’ll go with who’s the better cook?”

Mat scrunches his face up in thought for a few seconds before wiggling his hand back and forth in the air. “Toss up,” he says. “Depending on what food it is.”

“Nope, not a valid answer,” Liana shakes her head. “Remember who cooks for you all the time at home.”

“I mean, I cook for him all the time down here,” you pipe up, feigning nonchalance.

Mat jabs his index finger at you, “exactly. Plus, no offense, Li, but your recipes are pretty basic. Squeaks likes to experiment.” He waggles his eyebrows and you reach back to pinch his ankle. He yelps and kicks lightly at your thigh with his socked foot. “Rude.”

“Cooperate, Mat!” You sigh.

“Next question,” Liana taps again at her phone, “who’s funnier?”

Mat hovers his hand over your head and you smile. “Squeaks, for sure,” he nods decisively.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t actually being funny, just so you know,” she comments idly.

“If it makes me laugh, then yeah it is,” Mat retorts, crunching into a chip to punctuate his sentence. He pokes at your thigh with his foot again, affectionate this time, and you wrap a hand around his ankle.

You reach out and, out of Mat’s view, tap on Liana’s thigh, subtly widening your eyes at her. She grins back and tips her chin in a slight nod.

“How about, who’s the better dancer?” You ask, leaning over to read off of Liana’s phone.

Mat shifts his hand to hold it over Liana’s head with a laugh. “I love you, baby, but you’ve got all the rhythm of a middle aged dad,” he teases. “Li clears this one.”

You wrinkle your nose and cut your eyes to Liana, murmuring, “I don’t know. Shaking your ass isn’t really dancing, is it?”

“At least I can shake my ass on beat,” Liana shoots back quickly.

On the screen, you can see Mat frown before sticking a guac covered chip into his mouth. His eyes flicker between you and Liana and you can see him thinking before deciding not to say anything. You roll your lips together to avoid laughing. You and Liana are definitely going to have to take it up a notch.

“Best style?” Liana asks and continues before Mat can answer, “oh, obviously me. No question.”

Mat looks down at her, eyebrows drawing together over his nose. “Since when? You’re always in comfy clothes, sweats, that shit.” He gestures down at Liana who’s wearing a cream lounge pants and sweater set that more or less matches your own.

“Maybe when I’m hanging out with you in the house,” Liana hits his other leg. “But my street style is way better, she dresses so Long Island.”

“Long Island fashion is so much better than anything to come out of Canada,” you retort with an eye roll. “Mat clearly made the right choice.”

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that he like when you dress all skimpy and slutty,” she shoots you an insincere smile and the couch shifts when Mat sits up straight.

“Hey, whoa, Liana that’s not cool,” Mat snaps, shaking his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You turn your head away from Mat to hide the smile that threatens at your lips. Liana waves a hand at her brother, “oh my god, nothing. It’s true though, you like the way she dresses.”

“Yeah, but she’s not a slut,” Mat’s getting annoyed and it’s sweet, how quick he is to defend you.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you draw attention back to you. “Let’s do another. Who’s smarter?”

Mat squints at you and leans back into the couch, crunching the bag of chips behind his back. “Oh shit,” he mutters, yanking it out and getting crumbs everywhere. You exhale a laugh through your nose - vacuuming before going out for dinner isn’t entirely unusual with Mat’s eating on the couch habits.

“Um, both of you?” He replies to the question. “Like Li is street smart, but you’re book smart. Y’know?”

“Oh my god,” Liana shakes her head. “Are you calling me stupid? You think she’s smarter than me?” She jabs her thumb at you and you frown at Mat.

“Seriously? Like you think I’m not street smart? You could drop me anywhere and I’d find my way home,” you protest, pretending to get heated.

“Please, she’s not even book smart either,” Liana says. “You know she thinks blood is just floating around in the body!”

You burst out a little laugh. That one is actually true, you’d had a “blonde moment” and said something to Liana to the effect of it being weird that blood and organs are just floating around inside your body. She’d stared at you for a solid five minutes with her mouth open at your stupidity, while you immediately realized your mistake and tried to backtrack that you knew veins and arteries exist.

Mat raises his eyebrows at you and his mouth drops a little. “Wait, seriously?” He asks. “You really think that?”

“No!” You yelp, waving your hands in the air. “Like for a second, but I’m not that dumb.”

Liana scoffs under her breath and you cut your gaze at her to see her hand come up and cover her mouth, hiding a wide smile.

“Maybe I should take it back,” Mat laughs, poking at your side with his foot. “Yeah, I’m changing my answer, Liana’s smarter.”

“Rude,” you laugh, unable to actually be offended by Mat’s switch-up. If he had said something as stupid, you would’ve made fun of him until the end of time.

Liana asks the next question - “Who’s more popular on Tik Tok?” - and Mat waffles until he eventually decides that the answer is “whoever features me the most.”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re never on mine,” Liana comments idly. “I don’t need the exposure.”

Mat squints at her, leaning forward so he’s almost bent in half. “Literally what is going on with you?” He flicks the back of her head and she swats at him. “You’re being so weird.”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird,” Liana shoots back.

“I never heard you talk to her like that,” Mat grumbles, jerking his thumb in your direction. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

“No bug,” Liana shrugs. “Just calling them like I see them.”

You lean against the couch and watch Mat’s face twist into a skeptical frown. He kicks the side of Liana’s thigh and says firmly, “be nicer. Whatever’s happening here needs to cool off.”

He’s being fairly calm, so maybe the trick won’t actually work. You tap on Mat’s calf, momentarily distracted by the thick cords of muscle, and say, “one more, and then I think we need to start getting ready.”

Mat reaches down and scratches the tips of his fingers against your scalp, making you lean into his touch like a cat, a slow smile taking over your face. With your cheek pressed against his knee, you look over at Liana, who’s rolling her eyes even as she has a faint smile on her face at your antics.

“Okay,” she grins, “if we were all in a sinking ship and you could only save yourself and one of us, who would it be?”

Without hesitating, Mat immediately says, “Squeaks.” There’s a healthy amount of “duh” in his tone and you can’t help but smile, warmed down to your core at Mat’s quick response.

Until Liana does her job and riles him up.

“Seriously?” She scoffs a laugh. “No hesitation, you’d pick some girl you haven’t even known a year over your own sister? Wow.”

You bite at your lower lip to hide a smile and Mat shoots forward again, jostling you.

“Liana, jesus fuck. What is wrong with you?” He snaps. “You’re being a fucking bitch. You know she’s not ‘some girl’ and you need to apologize. Now.”

He’s scowling at her, legs tensed. You don’t usually see Mat angry off the ice, but now he’s angry on your behalf and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hot. Absolutely worth the prank to get him worked up like this.

Liana giggles and shakes her head. “Oooh, you should see your face,” she giggles again.

“I’m dead serious, Liana,” Mat shakes his head. “You’re not fucking funny and I’m not going to sit her and let you be rude.”

You start giggling now and reach out for Mat’s hand. “Hey, babe, Mat. Seriously, it’s okay,” you say and Mat squints at you, frowning.

“No, it’s not fucking okay. I thought you two got along. I thought you were friends and now Liana’s over here being rude as hell,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you stay here and be nasty, Li.”

Liana catches your eye and the laughter is contagious. Soon enough, the two of you are cracking up, gasping for air. Mat’s confused, you can tell, because he’s spluttering and shaking both of your shoulders with his hands.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He mutters, reaching down and dragging you up onto his lap. You laugh and protest, wiggling to sit on the couch with your legs draped over his thighs.

“It’s a Tik Tok trend,” you explain, waving at your phone with one hand and wrapping the other around the back of Mat’s neck. Liana leans forward and stops the video on your phone. It was getting too long anyway and no one needs to see you explain the whole thing to Mat.

Liana pipes up, “I can’t believe you’d really think I hate her. I like her more than I like you.”

Mat’s eyebrows scrunch together and you can see the wheels turning in his brain. It clicks all of a sudden and Mat’s mouth falls open, outraged shock written all over his features. “I knew it!” He yelps, grabbing a throw pillow and whacking Liana on the shoulder. She falls over, laughter gasping out of her. Mat smacks her with the pillow again and Liana kicks out at him, glancing the coffee table and yelping in pain.

“I knew you two were plotting!” He laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you pinned to his side. Your stomach hurts from laughing and trying to wriggle away. “Fucking menaces, I’m not saving either one of you. You can both drown.”

“No!” Your laugh mixes with Liana’s and Mat’s, the three of you landing in a pile on the floor as Mat continues to whack at both of you with the pillow. Liana kicks at Mat’s shin, fighting him when he rubs his knuckles on the top of her head in a noogie.

“Stop, stop, mercy!” Liana gasps, wheezing. Mat rolls his eyes, but stops, breathing hard when he sits up, keeping you locked securely on his lap. You press your forehead against his shoulder, panting. Mat’s hands are warm on your back and then they slide down, his palm smacking against your ass in a spank.

You yelp and jump in his arms, nearly cracking the side of his jaw with your head. “What was that for?” You grumble, reaching back to rub at the sore spot.

Mat grins wickedly at you. “For being a brat,” he replies simply. He points at Liana, sprawled like a starfish on the floor, and says, “you’re on coffee duty for the rest of your time here. And I want the fancy shit from For Five, not the homemade stuff.”

Liana whines. “No way, this was a clean prank,” she counters, kicking at Mat’s side and missing. “You agreed to be in the video.”

“Last time I do that,” Mat mutters, but he’s laughing under his breath and he presses a kiss to your forehead, so you know he doesn’t mean it. “You two are so fucking annoying.”

“But who would you say is more annoying?” You can’t help but ask, a cheeky smile on your face.

Mat groans and Liana lifts her hand for you to slap. You lean over in Mat’s lap to smack her hand and nearly fall over in the process. Mat’s fingers wrap around your thigh and keep you in place.

“No more Tik Tok,” he vows when you’re settled again, perched happily on his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Liana pipes up from the floor before you have a chance, “okay, and not that i’m supporting you two being disgusting, so please wait until I go home, but what about that trend where the wife’s cooking naked when her husband gets home?”

You bite your tongue to hide a giggle and Mat’s head cocks, thinking. His fingers flex against your thighs. You loop your arms around his neck and trace your fingertips over the back of his neck. His forehead relaxes and you can feel his cock twitch with interest under your ass.

Eventually, he says, “okay, I’ll allow my participation in one more video.”

“That’s what I thought,” Liana mumbles. “Freaks.”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

What was I made for?

please note that this work tackles the mind of a mother in postpartum depression, if that’s not your cup of tea please don’t read it.

you had always heard the saying sad mothers raise bad children. what you didn’t expect was your husband slapping you in the face (not literally) by saying those exact same words to you.

if anyone ever asked you where you’d find yourself after 5 years you sure as hell would not believe that it would be in the arms of a formula one driver married to him with a baby on the way.

When you had met lando he was still deep in his party ways and clubbing habits, slowly but surely he grew out of it and became more of a boyfriend then a fiance and then finally a husband.

When you saw the positive pregnancy test you almost freaked out. Kids were not on the table at all with lando always being half way across the world due to his job and you not wanting to raise a child till his career calmed down a bit.

Fate had other plans for the both of you it seemed.

Lando’s first reaction was of shock and disbelief he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he would be a father. It seemed so strange that he would be responsible for a little soul.

Once the initial shock wore out he was up and about getting things ready for the baby.

This is when you started slipping more and more into your head and away from your husbands eyes.

It almost seemed like lando didn’t see you as you and simply saw you as a vessel that was carrying his future baby.

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful but it was like you had lost your own identity.

Unfortunately that would only worsen as the baby came.

Little Charlotte Norris arrived after grueling hours of pain and suffering. She was such a precious thing so small and innocent and yet when you saw her you didn’t feel a thing.

It felt sickening, how bad of a mother were you to not feel the joy and happiness when looking at your own child. If lando could do it so could you.

You felt like a monster unable of loving your own flesh and blood.

Things worsened for you unfortunately.

Everyone who ever came to visit only bothered asking about the baby and how she was no one once bothered to ask if you were okay. You didn’t look okay it was obvious yet everyone swept it under the rug including your husband.

Your deep hollow eyes and sore body was ignored by the man who vowed to be with you through thick or thin. It was a slap in your face when your daughter preferred to be with your husband over you. Charlotte had a problem latching to you correctly and would cry out of hunger, each high pierced cry would make you feel more and more like a failure. your own daughter hated you.

When lando came back he immediately noticed the screams of his little angel yet ignored once again the crumbling figure of his wife. you couldn’t help the tears that left your eyes when lando snapped at you for keeping his precious daughter crying and away from him.

That’s when you died on the inside.

A part of you simply couldn’t do it anymore.

With each pill your heart numbed itself from the pain and your mind went foggy. You felt at peace finally being able to keep the two people you loved the most in this world happy.

Lando wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore and your daughter wouldn’t have a sad mother who would raise her. Everything seemed like it would work out all without you.

[tkwrites]

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Title: A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride 

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!) - masturbation, vibrator use, phone sex (sort of), long distance relationships, a bit voyeuristic? 

Word Count: 973

Comments: In an effort to provide my fellow Americans some distraction on this very stressful election day, I present to you Quinn getting Sarah off with the vibrator she gifted him for his birthday - with a twist.

The idea of this came into my mind, and I just had to write it down. It also happened to be the piece that was closest to being finished. 

I hope you enjoy! If you did, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Also, let me know if you’d like to see a part two!

Anonymous asked: Can we expect to see Quinn putting that new vibrator to use with Sarah in the near future? 😍

Anonymous asked: Any change we could also get a little something of Quinn and Sarah for the election stress 👀 

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride 

A  Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Even though they were coming off a matinee win over the Penguins, this wasn’t the way Quinn would have chosen to end his day. 

Their plane broke down in Pittsburgh, so what should have been a two hour flight turned into a three and a half hour bus ride. He knew things had to be done, and they had to get to Ohio to get in some solid sleep before the game tomorrow, but bus travel was his least favorite. It was crammed and smelly, and the bus rocked in a disconcerting way the plane never did. 

He couldn’t fall asleep and on top of everything else, now he was late for a FaceTime date with Sarah. 

She’d messaged they day before, wondering if he had a room to himself in Columbus. 

When he confirmed that he was indeed roommateless the next evening, she responded, Oh, thank God. I’m so horny, I’m going insane. 

Can’t you get yourself off? 

Yeah, but it’s better when I can hear you. 

That message had made him blush, but also filled his chest with so much pride, he felt like he could have single handedly taken down Crosby. 

And now, he was stuck on this fucking bus. It definitely wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his evening. Especially not when Sarah was relying on him. 

Trying to distract himself with the book he was reading, he almost didn’t look at his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. 

Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled it out, wondering if he’d find another message like the ones from yesterday. Instead, the notification read: Lush: engaged

This bus ride was about to get a lot more interesting. 

Anytime this notification came through, Quinn always felt a heady rush of euphoria. Sometimes, he didn’t even join in on the fun. Just knowing Sarah was pleasuring herself never failed to make his mouth water and his pants a little tighter. 

She’d confessed a while ago that the toy she’d given him for his birthday was her favorite, even if she was controlling it herself. 

The first few times they’d used it, he watched her get herself off with it before taking over so he could learn her limits. 

Now, he opened the app and watched the slider for the internal motor tick up. The external motor stayed low and steady. He hardly ever saw it move. Occasionally, she turned it off altogether.

Watching the levels increase and decrease a few times, he knew she was working herself up — easing in, so the intensity the toy could bring on didn’t become too much.  

He never thought he could get so breathlessly turned on from watching a slider move on his phone. After a few more minutes, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His fingers were itching to take control. 

Finally giving himself permission, he switched the vibration pattern of the internal motor from the steady buzz to the thump-thump-thump. He liked to watch her fall apart around this particular pattern as it often caused her to breathe, moan, and clench down in rhythm. Watching her body sync up with it never failed to make him breathless. 

Quinn Hughes! Her text popped up at the top of his screen. What the fuck! You can’t even see me. 

In response, he turned the vibration up a tick. In case she decided to call, he put his AirPods in, though he hoped she wouldn’t. He was sure he’d start moaning if he had to listen to her orgasm, knowing he was controlling the pace. He was practically panting just imagining it.  

I know what you look like, he shot back. I’m getting through this damned bus ride imagining how you sound. 

The fact that Quinn was still making her feel this way when they weren’t even on the phone — that he was just watching the levels on his screen, relying on his memories to guide him — was incredibly hot. The fact that he knew her well enough to get her off without any visual or verbal cues made her feel cared for and loved on top of outrageously turned on. 

It wasn’t as fun when he couldn’t hear or see her, but he still knew what she liked. After a few more minutes, he changed the pattern again to one that slid from low to high and back again. 

Although she was alone in the house, Sarah still cried out, clutching at the sheets as pleasure rocked through her. 

He let that one tease her for a while before switching back to the thumping and turning it up two ticks. 

Before her first high had a chance to edge off, he switched the vibration pattern back to the thump-thump-thump he liked so much, and it sent her careening into another orgasm. 

She wished he could hear her. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Quinn!” 

The vibration stayed true and strong as the pleasure eased off. Before he could switch it again and send her into another overstimulating orgasm, she groped for her phone and turned the toy low enough that she could pull it out. Slick with lube and her release, it jumped out of her hand as it buzzed back to life. She had to wrestle it still until she could turn it off. 

While she liked the orgasms as much as the next girl, she knew it would be even better when he was listening or watching, and if they kept going now, she wouldn’t have the energy to play once he was on his own. 

She hadn’t expected Quinn to join in at all. He was on the bus, for god’s sake. She just needed something to tide her over until that evening.

She sent Quinn a melted emoji along with the message, You better be getting there soon so you can finish what you just started. 

A smile beamed over his face. 

Just an hour longer. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[p0orbaby]

Remember Cuddles in the Kitchen

summary: you go to your first game as the owner of The Arsenal

warnings: the teeniest start of some angst but that’s it

a/n: i wrote this in an hour, don’t judge, or do

word count: 1.3k

-

You arrive at the stadium in the kind of vehicle that hardly counts as a car anymore—a blacked-out Range Rover with plush leather seats, which are supposed to help with lumbar support or jet lag or something. It glides through the crowd outside the stadium as if it were water parting, leaving you in a surreal, weightless state as you stare out the tinted windows. People line up along the barriers, some of them with jerseys, scarves, others in crisply tailored suits, all of them fixated on the car as if it’s carrying royalty. In a way, you suppose, it is—at least, that’s what the club PR team likes to tell you.

The driver, whose name you can never remember despite his impeccable service, opens your door with precision timing, as if there were some imaginary stopwatch counting down the seconds it should take for you to step out. You have a fleeting memory of insisting to the board that you didn’t need this kind of attention, but that was waved away—of course you did, they’d insisted, it was all part of the club’s image. So here you are, stepping out into the sharp autumn air, the sound of fans and stadium chatter rising and folding around you.

People see you instantly, recognise you. A ripple of whispers, the odd “there she is!” or “our owner, that’s her!” float up from the throng. A camera flashes. It’s a bizarre mix of adoration and fascination, directed at someone who hasn’t even kicked a ball. They think they know you, these people, with their wide eyes and hopeful looks. They don’t, of course, but there’s no room for reality here, not in a world built on perception and spectacle.

You make your way through the stadium corridors, led by an assistant with a headset who murmurs into it like a stockbroker, keeping you insulated from the crush of ordinary fans. She’s brisk, polite, making small talk as you walk past murals of past players, glossy and smiling and set in that specific historical lighting that makes them look both heroic and outdated.

Eventually, you reach the suite. Inside, it’s the pinnacle of curated, near-stale luxury. Charcoal-grey walls, marble-topped counters, a buffet laden with food that looks more sculptural than edible—truffle-scented hors d’oeuvres and exotic fruits. You can’t remember the last time you ate at one of these spreads; it always feels wrong, somehow, to snack on pâté while everyone else is crammed into the stands, scarfing down chips and Bovril.

You glance at the screen on the far wall, where Leah’s name appears in the lineup. Your heart tugs, some deeply buried urge to be out there with her, watching from the stands, shouting with the fans instead of gliding through this marble-and-silver version of a stadium experience. You scan the field, your eyes finding her immediately. She’s focused, her whole body coiled with that easy confidence you’ve always envied, jogging alongside her teammates, every move smooth and efficient.

The fans in the lower section spot you from their seats, and a fresh wave of whispers and nods starts. A couple of people even clap when you’re shown on the stadium’s big screen for a brief second, a polite nod to their reclusive, mysterious owner. You smile, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment, and settle back in your chair.

The match is a whirlwind, a blur of chants and shouts and, every now and then, Leah’s fierce concentration catching you off guard. She’s different out there, almost unrecognisable from the woman who drinks tea in your kitchen wearing mismatched socks. She’s something more primal, almost statuesque, moving with a determination that feels slightly otherworldly.

When it’s over, you wait in the suite, alone, watching as the champagne is removed, the food whisked away, and the staff disappear with their final, obligatory nods. The door opens, and Leah steps in, looking somewhat shy in her own space. Her hair is still damp from the post-game shower, and her cheeks are flushed from the effort, a hint of colour that feels more honest than the varnished elegance of the suite. She’s got that look—that bright-eyed, smug expression of someone who knows they played well but is too modest to admit it.

She stops, taking in the setup with a flicker of something you can’t quite place. A slight furrow of her brow, a narrowing of her eyes, as if she’s both impressed and vaguely amused by it all. She crosses her arms, eyeing you with a smirk.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” she says, her tone light but with an edge of something darker.

“Not my choice,” you reply, gesturing at the array of imported cheeses and miniature quiches. “Apparently, truffle-infused food is non-negotiable”

She snorts, but her arms stay crossed, her body language closed off. She looks around, her gaze lingering on the sterile decor, the impersonal luxury, and something in her expression tightens, like she’s uncomfortable here. “Feels like a mausoleum in here. Where’s the celebration? The noise?”

You shrug, glancing away, feeling an odd prick of defensiveness. “Apparently, being a good host involves keeping everything as quiet as possible”

She doesn’t smile, just watches you with that steady look. There’s a tension between you that wasn’t there before, something unspoken but heavy, and it catches you off guard.

“Is this what it’s like for you now?” she asks, her voice soft but pointed. “All this… pageantry?”

You hesitate, then nod. “This is what they want. The ‘owner’ experience”

She studies you for a moment, her gaze uncomfortably sharp. “And what do you want?”

The question sits between you, raw and unanswered. You don’t have a quick response, and that unsettles you. Because truthfully, you’re not sure. The distance between her world and yours, between the pitch and this hermetically-sealed suite, feels enormous, almost insurmountable.

Leah sighs, uncrossing her arms and taking a step closer. “I just… I don’t know. I thought it would be different. I thought… I’d come off the pitch, see you there, and it would feel like… like home, you know?”

There’s a pause, a heavy silence as her words settle over you. And it hits you, then—this isn’t just about the suite, the champagne, the hushed voices. It’s about the way this world has started to reshape you, molding you into something polished and distant, something that doesn’t quite fit with the person she fell in love with.

Without thinking, you reach for her hand, pulling her close. “Leah, I don’t care about any of this. I’d be out there in the stands with everyone else if I could”

She looks at you, her expression softening a little, but there’s still a hint of wariness, like she’s not entirely convinced. “Then why are you here?”

“Because that’s what they expect,” you say quietly, the words feeling oddly vulnerable. “It’s all theatre. None of it matters. The only thing that matters to me is… well, it’s you”

The tension in her shoulders eases, and she lets out a breath, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Sometimes it feels like I don’t even know this version of you. Like I’m just… watching from the outside”

Her honesty cuts through you, but there’s a strange relief in it too, as if naming the problem has made it more real, more manageable. “Then tell me what you need,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me how to make this work”

She looks at you, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “How about we start with a drink that doesn’t taste like money?”

You laugh, a genuine, unrestrained sound that feels like a release. “That, I can arrange”

You signal to the server, and within minutes, a couple of beers appear—actual beers, not the artisanal, locally-sourced nonsense. You crack open the bottles, handing one to Leah, and she raises it in a mock toast, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“To the queen of the royal box,” she teases, and you roll your eyes, clinking your bottle against hers.

“Long may she reign”

[endereies]

SOAKED THROUGH - MS

No Nut November - Day 6

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt finds you outside, watching the rain and he decides to have fun with you

The last week had consisted of awful weather. Rain spluttered from the sky at almost every hour like clockwork. It hammered down on each of the windows, smashing against the glass harshly. The surrounding trees constantly ad their leaves dropping with the weight of the water droplets. The clouds were dark against the night sky that was dotted with stars. The orange glow of the street lights made it seem inviting.

That’s how you found yourself leaning against the door frame of your backdoor. You were protected by the overhang that allowed you to stand there without getting wet. The occasional drop that got pushed by the wind splashed against the soft material of your pyjamas. You hadn’t felt it, not enough for it to bother you.

The rain always reminded you of home. Whenever the rain lasted all day, your family would wind up together playing games and simply bonding. As you grew older, those moments came heard to come by. No one lived in the same house anymore, they had families, jobs. You weren’t going to blame anyone for life getting in the way, except life itself. Years went by without the rain providing comfort, unless it came from the ghosted memories.

The doorframe was lined with metal that sent a shiver down through your body when your skin touched it without warning. Somehow in the harshest of weather you found beauty in it. The cobwebs were covered in dew drops, plants and wildlife refreshed in the needed water. The way you’d find the odd light shine so perfectly as to create a rainbow shine through the water. It was something you could admire for yours.

Hours had lengthened into the night and by now it was early morning. When Matt shifted in search of you, he failed to find you along side him. The sheets were cold, your absence had existed a while. It wasn’t often you’d leave the room, for a drink, the bathroom. But never for that long. He grew curious, almost worried. He abandoned the covers from on top of him, grabbing a nearby shirt to trap his remaining heat. He didn’t care how he looked, he was more concerned about you. That was until he felt the chill from the backdoor, following with the sight of you against it. He heard the murmur of a small tune that stemmed from your phone next to you.

“Baby? What are you doing up…” His words slightly slurred with fatigue. It was audibly deeper with a rasp but nothing that didn’t scare you.

“Matt…sorry. Did I wake you?” He quickly shaked his head, drawing himself next to you. You leant into his touch, his warm palms contradicting the cold morning.

He pulled you into his warm embrace, burying his head into your neck, surrounded by your familiar scent. It was obvious he was weary from freshly awakening but the comfort of you next to him wasn’t something he was going to deny. “What are you doing here, aren’t you cold?”

“Not really” You offered him an innocent smile, one that turned into admiration when you stared at the rain once more.

“It’s really coming down, huh?” His breathe fanned your skin.

“It’s beautiful though. Isn’t it.” You mused, your eyes fixed on how the rain glistened in the outdoor lighting.

Matt’s attention was then drawn to the music that filled the silence. The melody was calming, soothing. “What are you listening to?” Before you could answer, he picked up your phone to see the beginning of a ‘Cigarettes After Sex’ to start playing. It was recognisable and he smiled at the familiarity. He watched as your hips swayed to the music, something you must’ve picked up subconsciously. The phone returned to its original place on the kitchen side.

He couldn’t help but find it captivating, the way your body so smoothly swayed to the song. His eyes lingered on you, taking in the small details. Your hair, your lips, the way your cheeks slightly redden in the slight cold.

He pulled away from you and took this as chance to stand outside the door, barely under the overhang.

“Matt?” You couldn’t inquire anymore before he spoke again. “Dance with me? Please.”

His hand reached out towards you, and you couldn’t help but give in to his infectious smile. It wasn’t practical, both of you weren’t in suitable clothing and with your feet against the concrete it was guaranteed that you’d get cold. Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care and before you knew it, your hand laid in yours.

A smirk covered his face as he pulled you towards him. Your hand landed on his chest, and he extended his other hand above your heads. With a flick of his wrist, you took it as a sign to spin against him, the twirl making your hair push out. The rain had immediately impacted you both and it was quick to see droplets fall down his face.

He brought you closer to him after you spun, your noses barely touching as the rain fell between you, the feeling of wet clothing stronger by far.

A stroke of air forces from your nose as you lower and shake your head. “This is stupid…” You chuckled slightly at the fact you two were awkwardly dancing in the middle of a storm.

“So? I’d rather be stupid with you.”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[liiixsturniolos]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ angel ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings!: smut, p in v, sex in a changing room..

~ chris, let's you have his card, and spend what you want at the mall, in victorias Secret, he likes the look of certain red underwear and can't keep his hands off of you in the changing room.

You and your boyfriend chris are walking hand in hand across the mall, and you hold onto his credit card contentedly. It was his 'treat' today, and he'd told you to spend whatever you like.

The last stop of the list was victorias secret. As you skip in to the blindingly pink store, Chris trudges behind you tiredly.

You shuffle through a rack of bras, looking for a new pink one, and some matching lace underwear.

Chris' eyes shift over to a red lacey thong, "You should get this." He smirks,

"Hm. Yeah, it's cute." You say throwing it into your basket.

His eyes widen, "You should try it on." He suggests.

You look up at him, "Kay." You respond smugly, grasping his arm and leading him over to the changing room, pushing him in and closing the door on you two.

You take off your underwear, putting on the red ones Chris wanted, twirling around for him.

"So, what'cha think of em?" You ask, already knowing the answer by his facial expression. His jaw dropped open as his eyes roamed up and down your body.

"Uh-yeah. Definitely, you should get 'em." He mumbles, preoccupied gawking at you.

Noticing the way he's glaring at you, taking in every inch of your body with his eyes, you stroke his face, leaning in and kissing him passionately.

His hands immediately start to cling to you, rapidly searching your body and grappling onto your hips firmly.

"So pretty angel, but lemme' take 'em off now?" He asks. Snapping his fingers along the band of the underwear.

"Mmm.. yeah." You whine, as he rips them off.

"So wet for me, huh?" He groans, unbuttoning his jeans.

He drags his finger gently over your clit, pushing it inside your walls,your eyebrows furrowing in your face, as you moan quietly.

He strokes his cock a few times and rubbing his pre-cum all over his head, with no hesitation, he slides his cock into you with ease, filling you up.

You and him both let out a simultaneous moan, trying to stay quiet, incase anyone could hear.

He instantly starts ramming you, desperate and searching for release, he couldn't take the teasing anymore.

He grunts, pushing you up against the changing room wall.

You let out a strangled moan. "Yeah? Come on my cock angel," he groans.

"Chris! m' gonna...f-finish! you stutter out.

He shoves a hand over your mouth. "Quiet baby." He whispers in your ear, still pumping into you.

"Fuck!" You yelp. As continues to ruthlessly fuck you. You were coming closer to finishing.

His words push you over the edge. You twitch engulfed by him, allowing a flow of whines and whimpers to escape your lips as he helps you ride out your high,

I feel his hands grip your hips in desperation, as and his warm cum paints your insides His movements begin to slow, and you let out satisfied sigh.

Feeling him pull his limp cock out of your pulsing pussy.

interacting is insanely appreciated, likes, comments, re-blogs I love! thanks for reading darlingsss ♡

taglist; @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @1-d0nt-w4nn4-b3-m3-4nym0r3 @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy

[winchesterwild78]

The Demon and Me pt 2

Master List 

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Demon Dean, Angst, Language, SMUT! 

TW: Demon Dean is very rough in bed. The sex will be consensual, however I wanted to write a warning because it’s not going to be sweet and fluffy. 

A/N: Oh Demon Dean…he makes me feral-sorry not sorry. Just a short story that popped in my head. I have a ton of chapters for other stories half written, but I couldn’t help myself. Dean is now a demon and the reader is left with the weight of his absence, he shows up in her hotel room, and leaves her reeling, Sam and Cass arrive, and Cass gives the reader some unexpected news. 

Minors DNI 18+

A panic filled my body. Then the light turned on. “Looking for this darlin’?” Dean was standing in my room, holding my demon blade. I gasped, “Dean.”

“Hey sweetheart, looking good in my shirt.” His eyes flashed black and then green. I grabbed the blanket and covered my exposed body. 

“Dean, what are you doing here? How did you get in here” I knew the question was stupid before I even asked it. He knows how to pick a lock. That’s how he got in. 

He stepped closer, tossed the knife to the side and smirked, “I couldn’t stay away from you. Your smell is intoxicating. I need you baby.” 

I pulled the blanket up further as he stepped closer. My head low and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. I knew he was still a demon, but hearing his voice and seeing his green eyes look at me like he loves me was just too much. 

“Dean, I’m not your baby anymore. You don’t love me. You chose this over me, over us.” I couldn’t look at him. My voice was shaking and I felt the sting of the tears. 

Dean stepped to the side of the bed I was on. The one I always slept on, away from the door. Dean’s side was closest to the door so he could protect me. At least that’s what he always told me. 

I could feel his body heat. Then his hand gently cupped my face and turned it up and towards him. I looked at him, his face was soft and I thought I saw the love he had for me. 

“Sweetheart, please. I do love you. I want to be with you. You swore you’d love me no matter what. Remember Cass said we’re soulmates. We belong together, no matter what happens.” 

Tears started to fall, his thumb gently wiping them away. I instinctively leaned into his touch. It had been so long. 

“What about the girl from the bar?” I asked in a soft voice. “What about her? Why would I want her when I have you?” 

My breath hitched, “Dean, I..” I couldn’t finish the sentence, he captured my lips in a soft kiss. My mind is reeling. He was so gentle I lost myself in his kiss. I got up on my knees, meeting him and kissing him deeper. His hands gently pulled me to his chest, and I moaned. 

I pulled back, needing air and I looked in his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of green I’d seen. “Dean, I miss you. Please..” Dean’s hands ran up my body, tracing every curve I’d learned to love because he loved them. He removed the shirt and his lips trailed down my collar bone and to my full breasts. 

My head leaned back and I moaned. My body responding to his touch, I could feel the slick forming between my thighs. I knew my panties were soaked. Dean leaned my body back and he positioned himself between my legs. His bulge pressing against my panties. 

His hands and lips trailed over my body, he kissed every scar and every stretch mark like he was memorizing my body again. Dean’s hands stopped at the hem of my panties, his eyes flicked to mine. I nodded and lifted my hips. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my heart and my body needed him. 

As he removed my panties his hands slid in between my folds. I heard a soft growl from his lips, “All this for me sweetheart?” I moaned and nodded. “Use your words.” “Yes, Dean, please I need you.” His tongue and mouth attached to my clit and pussy. I quivered under his touch. 

He sucked and licked like a starved man. I came almost instantly. Dean lapped up my juices. I moaned and squirmed under him. His grip tight on me as he pushed me towards another release. I came almost as fast the second time, this time his name leaving my lips loudly. 

As Dean helped me ride out my second release my senses were completely gone. Dean, my Dean was the one making me feel like this. My heart ached for it to be true. 

As Dean picked his head up, smiling down at me in my euphoric state. “Mmm look at you sweetheart. You tasted so sweet, different but sweet, almost new.” I smiled up at him and pulled him down to kiss my lips. “I love you, Dean.” 

A smirk tugged on his lips. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and removed his jeans and boxers. His hard length sprang free. I bit my lip, I really missed him. “Dean, baby, please take me.” Dean positioned himself between my legs and his green eyes turned black as coal. 

I gasped as he slammed his cock deep inside me. “Dean, baby, come back to me. I don’t want you like this, please.” “Oh baby girl, you wanted this, remember?” His eyes flashed back to green, but he kept up his brutal pace. 

He would pull out and slam back inside, hitting my cervix and pulling a half scream, half moan from my mouth. “Oh this pussy, it’s all mine.” My legs were in the air, draped over his shoulder as he kept slamming into me. My tits were bouncing so much they started to hurt. 

Tears formed in my eyes. Dean was never this rough, but god my body craved him. Dean held me down, slipped one of his strong hands around my throat. “You take my cock so good baby. Fuck! This pussy was made for me. You better not let anyone ever fuck you. You, your pussy belongs to me.” 

I felt like I was going to pass out, throw up and cum again. Dean’s mouth covered mine in a deep, hard kiss. “Dean, please, slow down.” I begged. “No! I will take you how I want. You’re mine.” I laid under Dean, feeling his hands grip my body tight as he pounded into me. 

In one swift movement, Dean had flipped my body over and pulled me on my knees. He slammed into me, pulling my ass up and pushing my face into the pillows. His large hands gripped my hips as he continued his brutal assault on me. Then without warning his large hand came down and smacked my right ass cheek, hard. I yelped in pain.

Dean was getting close. “I’m going to fill this little pussy up with my seed. Fuck a baby into you. I know you want that.” “Oh Dean, please baby, not like this.” My pleas fell on deaf ears as tears fell. Dean was spilling his hot seed deep inside me. His grunts and groans filled the room. 

After he came he stood, put his clothes back on and left without a word. I laid on the bed naked, a complete mess and utterly alone. I was ashamed I gave into him, and my heart broke because he used me then left. 

I felt his cum spilling out of me. As I got up to clean myself, I winced at the pain in my body. Dean’s marks were peppering my skin and between my legs was so sore. 

I allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I cleaned myself up, laid a devil’s trap out, something I should have done before, and crawled back into bed. The smell of Dean on the sheets and my body. I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach that filled my body. 

As I laid there I felt the bile creeping up my throat. Throwing the blanket back, I leaped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I sobbed as I began to vomit. Emptying what little contents there was into the toilet. 

After I was sure I was done I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. I crawled back into bed, pulled the blanket around me and exhaustion took over. 

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the phone and it was Sam. I had no idea what I was going to tell him, how could I tell him I found Dean, allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I felt the familiar feeling fill my stomach, I was so ashamed of what I had allowed, it was making me physically sick. 

I answered the phone, voice very weak, “Hey Sam.” “Oh thank god! Y/N, where are you? I got your note and called your sister. She said you broke down and had to stay waiting on the part. Are you okay? You sound off.” 

“No, I’m not. I found him, Sam. I found Dean and Crowley. I wasn’t looking and they were in the bar I went to last night. Sam I…” My voice trailed off. Not sure how much more I could admit. “Y/N, Cass and I are on our way. Tell me where you are. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

I sighed and told him where I was. “We will be there soon, and Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Just stay away from him until we get there.” I thought to myself that was easier said than done. Even though Dean was brutal last night, my heart and body ached for him. I still loved him, and would never give up hope he still loved me. 

After a few hours of laying in the bed I decided to take a hot shower and go find something to eat. Before I left the room, my phone went off with a text notification.

Crowley: I told you to stay away from him. Now all he can talk about is how you tasted last night, how it was different, sweeter, innocent.

Me: I woke up with him in my room you asshole. I didn’t invite him over. Besides, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. 

Crowley: No, but you definitely invited him in, didn’t you. Now you’ve complicated things and you’re going to pay.

Me: What’s wrong Crowley, is there a little trouble in paradise? His love for me is too strong to keep up this bro fest? You know if you hurt me, Dean will never forgive you. It doesn’t matter how long he stays a demon, I know his love for me keeps me protected, and you know it too.

Crowley: We’ll see.

I sighed as I put my phone away. Walking outside the sun was shining and the air was cool. I walked to the diner on the corner to grab some food and saw Bubba. “Well howdy, Miss. I was about to call you. I was able to get in touch with my friend and he has a hose that will fit. His wife is going to deliver it later today so I should have you up and running by this evening.” “Oh that’s great, thank you so much.” He nodded and walked away.

I walked into the diner, I could hear the clinking of dishes and chatter fill the room. The waitress smiled and told me to sit wherever I wanted, so I grabbed the corner booth at the back of the diner. Dean had taught me to find the furthest table from the entrance so I could see everyone coming and going. 

The waitress came over and took my order. I sat stirring my coffee, a weird feeling creeping up from inside. I played last night over and over in my head, along with what Dean and Crowley kept telling me about me “tasting different, sweeter, or smelling like vanilla and cookies.” It was really strange. In all the time Dean and I had been together, he had never said that to me. 

By the time my food came I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize it had arrived. “Ma’am, here’s your food.” The waitress’ words pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, “Thank you.” She nodded and walked away. 

I ate what I could, still feeling sick, paid my bill then left. I decided it was probably a good idea to stay in the room until Sam arrived. When I got back to the room, I turned on the TV, laid down and fell back asleep. The dream I had sent my head reeling. 

*Dream*

Dean had just gotten home from work. He loved his job as a mechanic and was working towards his own shop. I stayed at home working towards my degree. Dean and I were also expecting. Our first child, a boy, was due in a little over 3 months.

I hadn’t realized I was pregnant until I kept getting sick and Dean jokingly brought home a pregnancy test. Taking the test into the bathroom I sat it down, walked away and forgot about it. Dean and I had just sat down for dinner when he asked if we knew if I was knocked up yet. I gasped and told him I forgot about the test. Dean and I went to the bathroom and saw the two lines. 

We were shocked, excited, but shocked. Dean had been having Cass come down at least twice a week to check on me and the baby. It was endearing at how excited and scared he was. When we found out I was having a boy, Dean beamed with pride. 

As I stood cooking dinner, Dean had just come home, showered and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my pregnant belly, kissed my cheek and rubbed my belly. “How are my babies today?” He asked softly in my ear. “We are good, we’re glad Daddy is home, though.” 

Dean smiled, spun me around, kissed my lips and said, “I’m glad I’m home too. I missed you two.” “I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

*End of Dream*

As Dean said he loved me in the dream I woke up, reeling. My heart ached for that life. A normal life, Dean back being Dean, and us together with children. Now with him as a demon and gone, that isn’t possible. 

When I looked over at the clock I realized I had been asleep for hours. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Sam.

Sam: Hey, we are about half an hour out. When we get into town we will head straight to you.

You: Hey, sorry I was asleep. It’s been about 30 minutes since you sent that text, are you close?

As I hit send there was a knock at the door. I walked over, looked through the peephole and saw Sam. I unlocked the door and opened it. 

“Hey Sam, Cass.” Sam pulled me into a hug, “Hey, Y/N. How are you doing? Did he hurt you?” Tears pricked my eyes, “No, Sam. He didn’t hurt me. I just…” My voice trailed off as Cass stepped closer to me, looking concerned.

“Cass, we’ve talked about personal space, buddy.” “Yes, but you smell different, Y/N. You smell like sex, cookies and vanilla.” I whipped my head towards him, “Why the hell does everyone keep saying that. You, Crowley, Dean!” Sam stepped closer, “I don’t smell anything, Y/N.” 

Cass was right beside me and inhaled deeply, “That’s because you’re human. Y/N, you smell like…” His words stopped and his eyes went wide. My heart beat fast.

“I smell like what Cass?” “Y/N, I think you’re pregnant.” The room fell silent. The only sound was the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Cass, what?” Sam asked, finally breaking the silence. “I think Y/N is pregnant. That’s why she smells like cookies and vanilla. I don’t know why she would smell like sex, though.” I hung my head.

“Cass, are you telling me because I smell like cookies and vanilla you think I’m pregnant?” “Yes, pregnancy always has the same smell, cookies and vanilla.” “But I can’t be pregnant. Dean’s been gone almost 2 months and I haven’t slept with anyone but him.”

Sam stepped closer, touched my arm, “Is it possible, before Dean died and was turned into a demon the two of you had sex and made a baby?” “I guess it’s possible, Dean and I had a lot of sex, so I guess it could be possible. 

I stood in stunned silence. “Y/N, what happened when you saw Dean yesterday?” Sam’s voice low, but full of concern. I hung my head, “I woke up to him in my room, and we…um..” My voice trailed off. Sam’s eyes flashed with understanding, “Oh Y/N, please tell me you didn’t.” My voice barely a whisper, “I’m sorry Sam, he was my Dean again.” Sam gently touched my arm, “No, he’s not. He used you.”

“Don’t you think I know that!? I gave him myself again because I still fucking love him, and after he used me, he just left. Without a word, he grabbed his stuff and walked away. I’m so fucking stupid! Now Cass is telling me I might be pregnant. Sam, what am I going to do? Dean and I wanted children, but Demon Dean, could you imagine him with a baby!?” Tears started falling hard and fast, my chest rising and falling as my breathing quickened. 

Sam didn’t say a word, he stepped closer to me, wrapped me in his arms and held me as I sobbed. “Shh, it’s okay, we will figure this out. First we need to know for sure if you’re pregnant.” 

I nodded and wiped my eyes. Sam said he’d be back, he was going to run to the drug store and get a test and some other things, leaving me with Cass.

The silence was awkward at first, then I spoke softly. “Cass you told me there was a plan for Dean and I, is this what it was? For us to fall in love, for him to become a demon and leave me alone raising our child, without him?” “No, the plan is still in place, you, this child will bring Dean back.” My eyes met his, “What do you mean, Cass?” “This baby is what will help bring Dean back. This child, the product of true love, is destined for great things.” 

I looked at him, not believing what he was saying. I still wasn’t convinced I was pregnant. Then the thought kept playing in my head, what if he’s right. What if I am pregnant and this brings Dean back to me, to us. 

As we sat in silence my heart filled with a mixture of emotions. I was excited at the thought of having Dean’s baby, terrified to do it alone, and even more sad I would have to do it alone. 

What if Cass was wrong, what if Dean, well Demon Dean didn’t care about our child. What if he chose to stay a demon instead of being with me and our child. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Sam walked in holding a plastic bag. He pulled out two different types of pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “I didn’t know which one to get and if you are pregnant you should start taking these. He said as he shook the bottle at me. 

I nodded, took the two boxes in my hand and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. 

I grabbed one of the disposable plastic cups I use to rinse out my mouth and collected my urine in it. I dipped the first test in, replaced the cap and repeated it with the second test. 

One of the tests was your standard test, the other was digital. They both took about the same amount of time. I sat on the side of the tub waiting. The few minutes I had to wait felt like it drug on for hours. 

There was a soft knock at the door, “Hey, Y/N, you okay,” Sam asked softly. “Yeah, just waiting. I’ll be out soon.”

Sam didn’t push. He knew you were going through a lot, he was going through a lot. So he figured with this new possibility you were probably extra anxious. 

Your phone dinged indicating the timer was done. You stood on shaky legs, swallowed hard and picked up the first test. Two lines. You softly gasped, picking up the second test, the digital one. Pregnant was on the screen. 

Tears fell as an overwhelming wave of love, excitement, sadness and anger filled your body. You softly placed your hands on your belly. 

You opened the door to Sam standing anxiously, “Well?” He asked as he stepped closer. I looked at Sam and buried my face in his chest, “I’m pregnant, Sam.” Sam held me protectively, “okay, we will figure it out. We will keep the two of you safe.” He then placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. 

I had no idea what I was going to do. 

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[kaliforniahigh]

Can you write about Noah and super short reader? I'm 4'11 🥺. Maybe he walks in on reader either climbing on the counter to reach something or standing on the counter looking for a snack. He starts keeping step stools in every room.

She wears his shirts like a dress with fishnets and doc martens on the regular.

Maybe they do the tiktok trend of 'showing my dog places they've never seen' but it's you being lifted by him to see above the fridge and other high places 😂

Ok, so a good while back I wrote about this exact same thought and someone made a drawing of Noah picking reader up so she can look over the fridge, but I can't find it for the life of me :((((( Anyways, I love this concept soo much!!!

Warnings: this is just fluff!

WC: 1.4k (a shortie, like the reader)

My requests are closed for now!

Noah has walked in on you climbing on things to reach somewhere or something way too many times. He's always made a mental note to keep a little step stool for you, to avoid the risks of you falling, but he actually never got around to it.

Deep down, he knows it's because he loves helping you. Loves thinking that you can rely on him to always do this one thing for you.

But, one day, he had to draw the line. You were cleaning his room, dusting the shelves and the frames he kept on the wall. The thing is, he hung them too high for you to reach, So, without thinking twice, you rolled his computer chair to where you needed it, and stepped on top of it.

You were humming some random tune under your breath, when you heard an alarmed voice behind you.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You got startled and felt the chair start to swivel and roll to the side, making you lose balance. Before you could fall to the floor, Noah was beside you, grabbing you by the hips and landing you on the ground safely.

"Oh my God! Why did you have to scare me?", you scolded him, giving him a little slap on the shoulder, trying to regain your composure after almost faceplanting on the floor.

"Why on earth would you stand on top of a rolling computer chair?", he questioned you, voice exasperated and eyes still wide from your almost accident.

"I was trying to clean the frames", you pointed to the various frames on the wall to get your point across.

"I saw that! But you need to be more careful. God knows what would've happened of I didn't catch you", he was still agitated, and that was agitating you.

"I would've been fine! I almost fell because YOU scared me!", you gestured with your hands, voice becoming a little louder.

Noah sighed out loud, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

"Ok, maybe I shouldn't have startled you, but your idea was not the brightest", he tried to reason.

"I'm used to doing this. I've had to climb stuff my whole life to reach certain things", you turned around to resume your cleaning when Noah grabbed you by the hips.

"I'm sorry, ok? I don't mean to be a dick", he put both hands on your shoulder and started to massage them. "It's just that I worry about your well-being"

You relaxed into his touch, the tenseness leaving your body instantly.

"I know that. But the word is a very different place for someone who's 4'11''. You're 6'4'', things are way easier for you", you didn't mean to complain, but you did huff a little when you said this out of frustration.

"I know, I know", he pecked you on the lips. "I'm sorry, ok?", he looked you in the eyes, wanting you to know that he was being sincere.

"It's ok, I forgive you", you circled your arms around his middle and rested your cheek on his clothed chest. "I'm never standing on top of a rolling chair ever again".

"Not, you're not. Because I'm getting you a step stool instead", said and you whined.

"Noah, no. That's embarassing", you frowned at the ideia. You weren't a 12 year old anymore.

"What's more embarassing, a step stool, or going to the hospital, looking like a fool, because you fell from a chair?", he raised both of his eyebrows at you, as if to challenge you. You thought for a minute, but you knew he was right.

"Ok, you can get me a step stool. But it has to be foldable so I can hide it, and I won't step on it if people are watching", he smiled at your remarks, but actually impressed that you gave in so easily.

"I'll still grab things for you when I'm around", he put both hands on your back, rubbing them up and down.

"You better", you rested your head against him once again. "I'm tired of cleaning, you stressed me out. Let's go lay on the couch".

He laughed at your jab at him, but grabbed you by the hand, leading you out of the room, switching the light off and closing the door behind you.

"Let's go. I can grab you some snacks from the top shelf", you slapped him lightly on the back, as he expected, and his laugh only intensified. He couldn't see you you, but you were also sporting a big smile on your face.

"I want the Doritos"

Everything has been going well since you made your deal with Noah. The day after the almost accident, he went out and bought you the step stoll, and you've been biting your tongue to admit that it was actually a great decision.

One day, when you were laying on the couch, casually strolling on your phone, you heard Noah coming down the stairs. He was working on some songs on his computer - or that's you thought he was doing - and you usually left him alone for that.

He stood in front of you, and you looked at him over the top of your phone. He didn't say anything, but he had a smile on his face that you weren't sure if you liked. Locking you phone and dropping it on your lap, you asked:

"What?"

"I saw this trend on TikTok and I wanted to do it with you", he had an expression on his face that told you you might not like this.

"Noah, you don't even have TikTok"

"I have a TikTok", he said this a little lower, hoping you wouldn't hear it.

"You have a TikTok?"

"I do", he averted his gaze from you.

"Since when do you have a TikTok?", you asked. He was unbelivable.

"That's not important right now. Have you seen this trend where owners pick their dogs up to show them places they haven't seen before?"

"Yes, I have. It's adorable", you anwered and side-eyed him at the same time.

"I wanted to do it for you", he said and waited for your answer. You just looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Are you comparing me to a dog?", you deadpanned, and saw his expression change immediately.

"No, baby, of course not. I just thought it would be cute"

"Yeah", you hummed, as if in thought". "It would actually be cute", you agreed.

"So you'll let me do it?", he asked, but was already opening his camera app on his phone.

"Yeah, I will, But we won't post it", you said, getting uo from the couch.

"What do you want to see first?", he asked.

"The top of the fridge", you walked to the kitchen and he followed after you. You positioned yourself and Noah propped the phone on the wall behind the fridge, the phone sitting on top of it.

"Ok, so I'll grab you by the hips and lift you up", he instructed and you nodded.

He tried picking you up the first time, but you started giggling, remembering the dog videos you watched. The movent threw him off and you landed back on your feet.

"What's so funny?", he asked, looking at you.

"I'm just remembering the dog videos. They look so confused, it's so funny", you giggled once more.

"Ok, I'll try it again", he picked you up once more and you were finally able to see on top of the fridge. When you saw it though, you let out a big gasp.

"What is it?", Noah asked you.

"Oh my God, Noah. It's so dusty up in here. I need to clean this right now", you exclaimed, running your finger over the top and seeing the trail it left behind.

"You gotta show me other places right now, because our house is dirty and I didn't even know it", you said and made your way to the bathroom. "C'mon, you gotta show me the top of the bathroom's upper cabinet"

Noah didn't even know what to say, he just followed after you, with a smile on his face at how absolutely adorable you were.

So the day went by like this, him showing you the top part of places and you insisting you clean them. But he didn't let you use the step stool this time, adamant on holding you, using the excuse that he didn't go to the gym, so this was him working on his biceps.

You were more than happy to feel the tight grip of his big hands around your waist.

[kkayyerr]

Go ahead and cry, little girl.

Summary: No matter how many times you had to try and leave your relationship with Rafe behind, you always seemed to find your way back to him and it’s getting annoying. This time Rafe would make sure that you won’t leave him again. Ever.

Words count: 1,7k

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, mean!Rafe, slight dom! Rafe, NSFW, smut, dark themes, daddy issues, family issues, abusive family, daddy kink, drugging, drug abuse, dub-con, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dumbification, slight dacryphillia.

You were sitting in your room, tears flushing down your face as you heard your father’s car leaving the driveway again. It had been happening every time when you and him had some sort of disagreement. Instead of talking about it and regulate his feelings he would just leave, abandoning you. Your face was puffy and gaze became even more blurry as your eyes saw the hit mark that he had left on your face, even though he promised you that he would never lay his hand on you ever again.

You knew that it was a lie, but for some reason you wanted to at least try and believe him.

Well, that was a big mistake.

When you made a decision about breaking up with your now ex boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, you had nowhere to go, but to your house, that was the same place that Rafe had saved you from.

Rafe Cameron was a great boyfriend, until he started losing his shit completely.

All those paranoidal thoughts and aggressive behaviors made you make a decision that you didn’t wanted to make at all. You had to leave before the cycle will repeat itself and you would end up in your mother’s place.

But still you had to admit, that he was the only one, who could’ve take care of you properly.

Who could’ve kiss you properly.

Who could’ve calm you down properly.

Who could’ve fuck you senseless properly.

You couldn’t help yourself but needing him, especially after every fight with your father, when you were feeling like a lost little girl, looking out for her daddy.

You put yourself together and put on that dress that you knew he liked the most, those pink tight dress that he had bought you right before your break up. Then you had put those little white bows in your hair, making yourself look all sweet and innocent, which you knew would make him forget about the way you had left him behind, even if that would be only for one night.

Soon enough you were standing there, at the Tannyhill’s door, praying that Rafe would be the one to open the door, and not someone else.

You rang the bell, feeling how your knees became weaker just because of the thoughts of him, his hands around your tired body, that was exhausted from all the sobbing.

It didn’t took him too long to open the door.

He would’ve lie if he would’ve said that he didn’t expect to see you standing there, all cute and trembling.

The corners of his lips tugged into small smile, he wanted to play pretend a little bit, made you feel yourself at least a bit guilty because of your previous behavior.

„Can I help you, mrs. independent?”

He asked mockingly, seeing you in that state, your face puffy and your eyes swollen made him feel some odd type of satisfaction. He knew that you were nothing without him, that you would crawl back just as fast you had left.

„It’s dad…again."

Your voice were quiet, but he had heard you loud and clear. Actually, he knew what probably had happened just after taking one look at you. That little outfit…

You were trying so bad to let him knew what you needed now without saying it.

Daddy.

Oh, you wicked little shit.

„C’mere.”

He said, quickly letting you inside and closing the door behind you. Locking the door.

Rafe gently pulled you closer, feeling how shaky you were and that almost made him smirk.

You were down bad and for some reasons it felt so good, knowing that this was the state that you would end up every time when you would leave him.

But you won’t leave him anymore, he would take a good care of that tonight.

„What do you need, baby?”

His fingers softly grabbed your chin, making you look at him. Rafe knew that you hated to talk about that out loud, admitting that you needed him out loud was so embarrassing to you, that one time you almost started crying, speaking about that.

„Use your words.”

Rafe demanded, looking you straight into the eyes, seeing how desperate you actually were right now. The thoughts of you needing him that much were not only amusing, but also arousing.

Fuck, you were so needy.

„Need you, Rafe”

You murmured, looking down because of the feeling of slight humiliation. But you also couldn’t denied the fact that you felt how your pussy is became wet, just thinking of how vulnerable you were right now. Sometimes you liked when he would take advantage of that, sometimes you liked him being mean to you.

„Sorry, didn’t quite catch that, who do you need?”

You knew what exactly did he wanted to hear.

Pervert.

„Daddy. Need you, daddy.”

Finally, Rafe was satisfied with your answer. His lips curled into the smirk, and his eyes darkened just for a moment. Then an expression of the fake empathy showed up, completely fooling your little lost mind.

„Do you want daddy to make you something to drink? Warm milk, perhaps?”

You nodded. For some reason, his care and his presence were the only two things that helped you calm down every time when you had a fight with your father. Even though mentally you were a grown girl, you liked how he treated you like nothing more but a little girl, you liked those moments when he would infantilize you even more.

Slowly you approached the couch and set down there, waiting for your drink, you haven’t even been paying attention to what he was doing in the kitchen, you knew that he had always knew better than you.

Rafe came back a few minutes later with a pink sippy cup in his hands, that he had bought for the special occasion when you wanted to feel…taken care of, as he would called it.

„Drink it all up, baby“

You took it with both hands a started drinking.

And the taste felt funny…

Something felt off, but you couldn’t tell what or maybe just didn’t wanted to tell exactly what was wrong with it. Warm milk slowly filled your empty stomach, and you felt comfort, just as it had happened every time before, but the comfort was strange. You felt how your thoughts started to quiet down.

„Thank you!”

You said, but your words came out different, echoed.

Rafe take an empty cup from your hands and then ruffled your hair gently, giving you a sly smile. You didn’t know what, but you could’ve tell that something was definitely weird about the whole situation right now.

Something about his behavior made your stomach twitch, as you felt a slight wave of anxiety washing over you.

„Listen, I have to…”

Just as you stood up from the couch you felt that your knees became much weaker, you almost felt to the ground but the pair of strong hands catch you by your waist, not letting you lose your consciousness just yet.

„Not so fast, baby. You think that you can just throw me away like a trash again?”

You tried to focus your gaze on Rafe’s face, but everything around you seemed so blurred, and your hearing was also slightly damaged. You gave him a quiet whimper as the answer to his question.

„Oh, I love when you’re get so quiet. Sadly, Ketamine’s effect isn’t forever.”

You could’ve guessed that his tone was mocking, but you were more busy figuring out how to at least start talking again.

His grip on your waist tightened, as your body now was almost fully in his hands, because you clearly couldn’t stand on your own.

„What? Don’t wanna me to leave you now? Huh?”

You quickly shook your head, the last pieces of your clear mind understood that you would probably end up dead if he would left you on the street right now, or anywhere beside the house.

„That’s what I thought."

He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed nothing. You didn’t even had to have a clear gaze to know where he was taking you right now.

Upstairs.

Room.

Locked doors.

Your body was put down in his bed, as he slowly were taking your clothes off. You weren’t protesting at all, maybe because you couldn’t, or maybe because you didn’t wanted too.

Little pink dress was now laying on the floor, you were left naked with only white bows in your messy hair.

„Want Daddy to make you feel good baby?”

Rafe asked, and you nodded.

Your whole body was shaking. It might’ve been a drug affect, but it also might’ve been the overstimulation that you felt.

Rafe’s fingers slowly started to play with your swollen clit. He didn’t even had given you any time to prepare yourself, as his two fingers now where already teasing your overly sensitive clit with the full force. He used you like a musician would use his instrument, listening to all that cute noises.

You bit your lip, trying to find strength not to sound way too pathetic right now, but with every try you were failing even more, as his touches got even rougher.

„Mhm”

You whimpered, one of your hands covering your mouth to give you at least some sense of control in that situation. You didn’t wanted to give him satisfaction by letting him know how much you were enjoying this.

„Wanna cum, baby? Already shakin’?”

You gave him a quick nod, and suddenly his fingers stopped just a few seconds before you could’ve get your relief. You gave him a glossy stare, trying to non-verbally ask him to go on.

„Beg for it.”

Your mouth betrayed you, when instead of a proper „please“ came out a the desperate whimper. You shook your head, trying again, and then again, but all your tries were miserable. You sounded like a pathetic puppy, trying to get at least crumbs of attention from it’s owner.

„Too bad, baby. Guess I’ll come back in the morning and we would go on from that moment. If you would ask me nicely, of course.”

Rafe teased, seeing how tears flushed down your red cheeks. He leaned down and gave you a forehead kiss one last time, before standing up from the bed and leaving the room. He then left you completely alone.

Overstimulated, crying and drugged.

Maybe you shouldn’t had left him in the first place…

Author’s note: Yeah, guys, that’s was pretty dark…

[alwayssassydreamer]

Charmed And Disarmed

A/N: thanks Ann for asking for a fluffy story with Shanks who is getting on the readers nerve until she agrees to go on a date with him, hope you like it.

Plot: you're trying to avoid your incredibly charming captain but he wouldn't let up until he gets what he wants

Warnings: none, just a fluff-ish story

Characters: Shanks x F!Reader cameo by Beckmann, Hongo, Yasopp

You were busy working on the deck of the Red Force, focused on your task as the sun shined down, the wind was gentle, the crew was bustling around you, and the day should have been peaceful. But, of course, nothing was ever peaceful when Shanks was around.

"Need a hand?" Shanks’ voice suddenly drawled from over your shoulder. You felt him lean in, his breath brushing against your ear. His tone was smooth, that familiar teasing edge made your heart skip a beat.

"I’m fine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt a flush creeping up your neck.

Shanks didn’t budge. "Are you sure? It looks like you’re having a hard time... concentrating." There was amusement in his voice, and you could feel his grin without even looking at him. He leaned even closer, practically invading your personal space.

From the other side of the deck, you heared Yasopp snicker. "C’mon, captain, don’t be shy now. You know she can’t resist your charm."

The rest of the crew burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the show.

You shot Yasopp a glare, but Shanks seized the opportunity, lowering his voice so only you could hear it

“They know you like the attention.”

Your face turned even redder, and you opened your mouth to protest, but he was already standing up straight, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"How long until she cracks? I give it two minutes," Yasopp said loudly.

"Two minutes? I say less!" Hongo shouted, and soon, the entire crew was placing bets on how long it’ll take for Shanks to get under your skin.

Shanks winked at you, stepping a little closer again.

“We’ve got an audience now. Care to make this interesting?” His voice was playful, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

The whole crew was watching, waiting for you to crack, while Shanks stood there, all charming smiles and relentless teasing.

The longer you tried to keep your composure, the more impossible it became. Every little word, every glance, just added to your growing fluster, and Shanks knew it. He was enjoying every second of it.

Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you shoved the papers into his chest.

"You want to be helpful, Captain? You finish the paper work then!"

The crew erupted in laughter as Shanks held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes sparkled with victory.

After days of enduring Shanks’ relentless teasing, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Every time you stepped onto the deck, it seemed like Shanks was there—ready with a smirk, a flirty comment, or some harmless touch that sent your heart racing.

You needed an escape, so you started spending more time in the infirmary, assisting Hongo with medical supplies, or helping Beckman sort through the endless stacks of paperwork.

"If you keep hiding in here, the crew's going to think you’ve suddenly developed an interest in medicine," Hongo said with a raised brow.

"I'm just avoiding.....distractions." you said with a sheepish grin.

"Sure. But you know he's going to find you in here right" Hongo replied with a small chuckle.

And he was right. It didn't take long until Shanks entered the infirmary.

"There you are. Already feared you would have gone overboard" Shanks joked.

"I’ll leave you two to it.” Hongo said glancing between you and Shanks, smirking as he left.

"What’s this? Playing nurse now?” Shanks teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Just offering a helping hand" you muttered not meeting his gaze.

"Seems you've been developing some sort of helper syndrome lately. Or is this part of your strategy to avoid me"

"No.....I'm just being helpful" you said as you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks as he stepped closer again, clearly not buying your excuse.

"Sure you are" he said his tone full of amusement. "But you can’t avoid me forever, you know."

Unfortunately for you he was right. Everytime you were hiding in Beckman's quarters helping him with the paperwork Shanks would enter the room. Dropping a playful comment, teasingly poke your side or stand too close to you all while Beckman chuckled under his breath.

It seemed like there was just no way to escape your captain's teases.

After he left you flustered again Beckmann smirked.

"You know he’s not going to stop, right? Might as well face him head-on.” he said amusement in his voice.

You sighed feeling the need to find a better tactic.

Next day you told yourself that you would just blend your captain's advances on you out. Which worked at the beginning pretty well but not for long cause Shanks isn’t easily deterred.

“What are you working on so hard that you can’t even look at your charming captain?” he called out, his voice loud enough for the whole crew to hear.

You ignored him, focusing intently on the chart in front of you, pretending it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. The laughter of the crew filled the air, and you could feel their eyes darting between you and Shanks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Is she playing hard to get?” Shanks teased looking at his crew. “I like a challenge.”

You refused to glance up, but you couldn’t suppress the smile threatening to break through. You heard the crew chuckling, and you wished they would have just let this go.

"C’mon, sweetheart! Just a smile for your charming captain?” Shanks persisted, leaning over your shoulder, his presence made it increasingly difficult to concentrate

"I’m busy, Shanks!” you exclaimed, shooting him an irritated look.

The crew bursted into laughter, clearly relishing the interaction.

Shanks raised his hands in mock surrender, but the playful glint in his eyes remained. “Busy? Or trying to ignore me?”

“I’m trying to get work done!” you replied, trying not to chuckle.

"You know you can’t ignore me forever, right? I’ll always be right here, waiting for you to crack.” His teasing tone sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you turned back to your work, determined not to let him get to you.

But you could feel the tension in the air, the crew’s eyes watching the unfolding drama with glee and you knew you couldn't resist him much longer.

------

You were sitting at the table playing cards with Beckmann, Yasopp and Hongo enjoying the peace without the captain. You were determined to finally win, not realizing Shanks approaching.

The other men at the table already grinning as they saw their captain carefully sneaking up to you.

You jumped in your seat as you felt him poke your side. "Fuck" you cursed, breath hitching.

"You should definitely work on your observation haki" Yasopp teased you with a smile.

"I hate you all" you said not able to supress the smile on your face.

"Maybe the captain can help you win before I'm starting to feel sorry for how bad you are at this game" Hongo stated making the others chuckle.

"Sounds fair" Shanks replied as he pulled you off the chair, sitting down on it and pulling you onto his lap. You could feel your cheeks flush almost immediately, your body was on fire.

"Show me those cards" he motioned for your hand to hold the cards up. He rested his chin on your shoulder oberserving the cards while you had a hard time to hold your hand still and keep it from shaking.

You could feel the other three staring at you knwing that they were amused by your 'misery'. Shanks clearly enjoying your discomfort and the way your body tensed.

"Maybe this was a bad idea it seems you're about to lose again" Yasopp teased smirking at you.

And he was right of course you lost. Shanks seemed too observed with you sitting on his lap and you were busy to keep your body from shaking.

Shanks sighed.

"Sorry for that I was sure we'd win. But I'll make it up to you, we will dock tomorrow. I know this quiet little place on this island that serves the best drinks. You’ll love it. Good food, good atmosphere..you and me" he said smoothly, voice dropping to that low, almost-too-charming tone he used when he was up to something.

"Wait what?" You asked getting off his lap.

"Just some......relaxation after I've been annoying you" he continued.

Yasopp, Hongo, and Beckman were watching with amused expressions, clearly catching on to Shanks' real intent, but they didn’t say a word. They just sat back, watching as the realization slowly dawned on you.

"Fine but you have to promise to leave me alone until then" you said. You could really use some time off and a good drink.

"Deal" Shanks winked, then stood up, heading off with that casual, confident stride of his.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Yasopp let out a low whistle while Hongo chuckled lightly. You looked at them confused.

"You do know he just asked you out right" Beckman said a small smirk playing on his lips

"What!?!" You almost yelled. You froze, blinking as it hit you.

You glanced at the others, who were all smirking knowingly.

Hongo glanced at you a mocking grin on his face. "Looks like his strategy worked. In the end he got what he wanted"

[lovecla]

TAKE IT EASY (OTHERWISE I’M LEAVING) | connor bedard.

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, single chapter:

ᡣ𐭩 — pair: connor bedard x fmc (olivia)

ᡣ𐭩 — synopsis: in which connor bedard’s girlfiend, olivia, is tired of seeing her boyfriend destroy himself every single day.

ᡣ𐭩 — word count: 3.1k

ᡣ𐭩 — chapter warnings: inspired by the song “you” by chase atlantic, angst, hurt with a dash of comfort.

ᡣ𐭩 — from me to you: the second chase atlantic released this album i knew i had to write something inspired by it. i missed writing for bedsy and since he’s our golden, hardworking boy, i thought this was very fitting. hope u like it 🤍

ᯓᡣ𐭩

but you've been diggin' up the truth

haven't slept in like four nights now

blame it on substance abuse

out in the deep end, i'm swimmin', i'm swimmin' again

YOU WOKE up startled with the loud bang coming from somewhere inside your apartment, your whole body jumping and your heart starting to race inside your chest.

Now, almost fully awake, you stare at the clock sitting on your bedside table, reading the time. 4:13 a.m., and when you pat the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend of two years should be laying, you frown as you find it empty and lukewarm to the touch.

“Connor?” You whisper, scared to wake him up unnecessarily, even if you knew he wasn’t lying with you in bed. Again.

You get up, the fabric of his old Blackhawks sweater heating up your skin, as you put on your slippers and leave the bedroom, noticing traces of Connor’s absence here and there— his slippers aren’t by his side of the bed, his duffel bag isn’t on the hallway like it usually is, his water bottle isn’t on the couch like he had left it last night, when you both went no sleep at one in the morning.

So that’s why you don’t understand what he’s doing by the front door, ready to leave, even if he had only slept for three hours.

“Connor?” You call again, watching as his blue eyes look at you, surprise and guilt decorating his expression like a famous painting hanging on the Louvre’s wall. “What are you doing?”

Your voice is still soft, and despite the scare, your eyes can barely stay open. You’re tired, tonight was the first night you had allowed yourself to sleep freely since now you were done with your exams. And you were happy because you managed to convince Connor to come home earlier, at eleven instead of midnight, just so you could spend some time together, like you used to do when you started dating.

“Liv, hey,” he whispers, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

That’s when you realize what he’s doing. The bag, the stick on his hand, the outfit. He’s—

“Are you serious right now?” You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. “You’re going to the rink? At four in the morning?”

“Baby, you know I need to,” he tries to sound convincing and if it wasn’t for the fact that this is probably the hundredth time he’s done this, you would’ve actually believed him. “We have a game coming up and—”

“Yes, I am well aware of that, Connor. But you went to sleep at one. Two nights ago, you also went to sleep at one and woke up at five. And the night before, and the night before that too.”

You don’t try to hide your feelings anymore. You want him to know you’re upset, and you want him to know that this, whatever the hell he’s doing, isn’t okay.

“I know, baby, but you know I have to keep practicing so I can help the guys.” He’s now facing you, his body visibly tense.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Connor, what the hell. There are other twenty fucking people in your team, you’re not the only player there. It’s not your responsibility only!” You cover your face with your hands, truly upset.

“Liv,” he calls your name, and it hurts to even hear it, because his voice is so full of guilt and shame. It makes you feel sick. “You’re not being reasonable right now. This is the NHL. You know how hard I’ve worked for this. There are people counting on me.”

“And I’m not one of them?” You whisper, making eye contact again, only to realize you’re not strong enough to have this conversation at four in the morning.

“Liv—”

“It’s fine, Connor. Go to practice.” You sigh, making your way back to the bedroom, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

you said, "take it easy, otherwise i'm leaving

yeah, i don't wanna stay and watch you die",

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CONNOR HAD an injury.

His jaw had been fractured, and he had to go to surgery to fix it. You were in the arena watching the game with Connor’s sister when it happened, and you had never been so scared.

You know Hockey is about hitting people as much as it is about playing and winning, but you won’t lie and say your heart doesn’t hurt inside your chest whenever you see Connor getting hurt on the ice.

And you aren’t dumb. You know that some players will purposefully hurt him just because he’s good. And even if people aren’t one hundred percent sure that that is what happened that night, you still remember the terrible feeling of losing when you were in the ambulance with Connor to the hospital, trying your hardest not to cry in front of anyone because you know what they would say.

She’s not tough enough to date a NHL player.

But you believed yourself to be tough. The only problem with all of this is that you knew Bedard would never take great care of himself, meaning that you’d have to be with him twenty-four-seven, which wouldn’t be a problem, if only he accepted your help.

Now, four weeks after the surgery, you’re inside the United Center, the Blackhawks arena in Chicago, stomping your feet as you walk towards the rink, the sound of your steps being muffled by Connor’s constant skating.

“Connor.”

You have to call him a few times so that he can finally get out of his head and look at you; once again, those blameworthy eyes looking down at you, as he skates closer to the benches where you were standing.

“Liv.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Connor?” You snap. “You’re supposed to be resting. You’re definitely not supposed to be on the ice.”

“I know, but my jaw is just fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He removes his helmet, running his gloved hand through his hair.

“It didn’t seem like it was fine last night when you had to swallow a bunch of pain pills because it was hurting. Connor, don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You can feel your face heating up, and you’re trying so hard to keep your shit together but— “You have to allow your body to rest. If you keep up with this, you won’t get better—”

“That’s not an option, Liv, and you know it,” he hissed back, now looking more distressed than guilty. “This is my life. And I did allow myself to rest, I spent four weeks doing absolutely nothing, just like the doctor asked me to.”

“He said six to eight weeks, Connor,” you sigh, tired, not actually believing you’re having this conversation with him. “Please. Just think about how I feel when I know you’re not well enough to be here yet you still are.”

He pressed his lips together, placing his stick on the floor next to him and moving his helmet around his hands.

“Liv, you know I love you but this— Hockey is what I am. It’s what I do. You have to understand—”

“And I have done nothing but understand you!” You shout, finally losing your cool and snapping at him, your loud voice echoing through the empty arena’s walls. Connor takes a step back, but now you’ve already started and you won’t can’t stop. “Ever since we met, I have been nothing but understanding. I stood by your side at all times, even when what you were doing wasn’t healthy for you!”

“Olivia—”

“I went to sleep alone and cried more nights than you could ever imagine,” your voice cracks, and your stubborn tears are already rolling down your face. “I still supported you no matter what. I cooked your meals, I packed your bags, I went to those ridiculous gala dinners and I did it all with pleasure because I love you and you’re supposed to do these types of things for the people you love!”

“Baby—”

“So you don’t get to stand in front of me and ask me to understand how badly you treat yourself and how you don’t care about anything else besides Hockey when I gave up everything to be with you!” You try to wipe your face, stepping back when Connor tries to reach you. He frowns when you flinch. “I gave up my freedom because I wanted to be with you and God knows I’d do it all over again because I fucking love you.”

“Baby, I know all of this and I’m grateful, I really am but—”

You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head. “There’s always a but with you.”

“Hockey is important to me, baby.”

“And I am not.”

The silence after your words is cruel, and it tears you apart, scratching your skin and making your insides hurt. His blue eyes, your favorite color to ever exist, are also filled with tears and you hate to see it. You hate to feel bad about saying these things.

The thing about loving someone is that the thread between giving up yourself for them and giving yourself to them is really thin.

You love Connor Bedard. Have loved him for years now. He makes you happy, he listens to you, he’s your best friend.

“You know that’s not true, Liv,” he gets closer, the sound of his skates hitting the ice making you want to puke. “You know you’re more important to me than any of this. You know I love you.”

“No, Connor, I don’t,” you whisper, smiling even when all you feel is pain. “I can’t do this. I won’t watch you d-destroy yourself and not do anything.”

He removes his gloves quickly and grabs your wrist, cold fingers holding your arm down. “Olivia, wait.”

“No,” You shake your head. “I need time. Sorry.”

You don’t look at his face as you leave the arena, and you certainly don’t listen to his voice shouting your name, over and over again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

i don't know what to do

i’m stuck in a loop, stuck in a loop

ᯓᡣ𐭩

HE WATCHES you talking to the children from afar.

You’re sitting on the floor, and it’s so obvious you’re better different from everyone else at the party. The children surround you like you’re their favorite princess or superhero, all of them wanting a little bit of your attention.

Connor feels like he should be offended, since those kids were there to see his team in the first place. It was some kind of reunion Foligno arranged with the media team, inviting some of his son’s friends and some other children with less opportunities.

But he isn’t. First of all, he’s thankful because if it weren’t for your charm, he would be the one having to deal with the children, something he wasn’t very fond of. Sure, he likes kids and he’s happy they like him, but if he could avoid social interactions, he would.

Besides that, watching you happy is something that he had missed, and he feels like shit for it. He knows he hasn’t been a good boyfriend, and he knows he should do better. Ever since that one night at the rink, you haven’t been the same.

But if he thinks about it too much, he realizes that you haven’t been yourself for a long time now.

And it hurts.

It hurts because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, the very first girl he fell in love with, but he also loves Hockey. As a young player in the NHL, he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself to others, and since people give him so much attention, he needs to keep on being a good player.

He doesn’t know how to balance things, how not to spend hours and hours without end on the ice, muting all of his doubts and worries while he keeps throwing the puck in the net.

You smile at a little boy who’s now handing you a flower, and Connor smiles as he watches you ask the little boy to put it on your hair, laughing when the other kids stop their babbling to clap at your newest look.

You make eye contact with him, and he feels himself getting devastated when he notices that the shine in your eyes lessened a little when you looked at him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

(why do you hate me?)

i could never hate you, despite the words that you've been sayin'

i’ve been having breakthroughs

and hoping you were proud, just maybe

anxiety drives me insane, and my newest addiction is pain

i know i said it was a ‘phase’

five years later, still stuck in my brain

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CLOSING THE front door with a sigh, you let your first sob out. The tears won’t stop, and you don’t bother to wipe them, it would be pointless.

All you want to do is slide down to the floor and stay there, letting the hardwood hurt your back and get you dirty, but you can’t. Your car decided to break in the middle of the road on your way back from college, and you had to walk until you found the nearest telephone to call your insurance company, which would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the terrible storm going on, the water drops penetrating your thin shirt like you weren’t even wearing anything in the first place.

It’s just one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, but you’re already so fed up with life lately that this all seems too much.

“Liv? What happened, baby?”

You lift your head up faster than you should've, because now you can see tiny, black dots floating around in your vision. You weren’t expecting to see Connor at your house, much less wearing the apron you gave him when he prepared his first dish by himself two years ago— a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Connor,” you whisper, not looking him in the eye. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I texted you,” he says, removing the apron that read “cook it yourself, cunt”. “What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

You don’t say anything, mostly because you’re certain that if you let one little word slip past your lips you’ll start crying uncontrollably once again, so you just shake your head and leave your things on the floor beside you, walking past him so you could get to your room.

He’s quick to follow, though, watching as you remove your wet clothes and get in the shower, both of you silent and lost in your own thoughts.

Not talking to Connor about your feelings feels weird, but you can’t help but feel like you’re holding him back. It’s sickening, because all you want is to stay with him and be happy, but sometimes loving is also letting go.

You get out of the shower, feeling the tears coming back when you spot the change of clothes Connor left for you on top of the toilet lid— his shirt, his pants, your favorite panties.

He knows you too well. He knows who you are as a person and he knows who you want to become. He knows your fears and your ambitions, he knows your dreams and hopes. He knows what you stand for and what you absolutely despise.

He knows you.

You change, and leave the bathroom quickly, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep for days.

“Some lady from your insurance company just called, saying your car will be ready next week,” Connor says, and only then you noticed he’d been standing next to your wardrobe the entire time, crossed arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your car was broken?”

You shrug. “I knew you were at practice. Didn’t want to bother you.”

“So you walked home? In the rain?” You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, but there’s nothing much you can do.

“I mean, what did you want me to do?” You scoff. “My phone died and I had no cash on me. And honestly, we both know that you would never leave the ice for something like this.”

“Liv, you know that’s not true,” he whispers, getting closer to you. “You know that I’d leave at any moment if I even knew you needed me.”

“Whatever,” you mumble before reaching for your phone in your bag, the device thankfully still dry, and put it to charge, removing the hundreds of pillows you have on top of your bed and throwing them on the carpet floor, already visualizing the amazing sleep you’d have.

“What are you doing?” You feel his hands on your back, his body closer to yours than it’s been in a while. “You haven’t had dinner yet. I cooked…”

His sad tone makes you break again, and you hate yourself for it. But you still love him so much, and it hurts to see what you’ve become.

“Liv, please, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, turning you around and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“Can you fix us?” You whisper, resting your head against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. He smells like home and the winter. “Can you fix what we’ve become?”

He’s quiet for a while, long fingers caressing your hair, like he used to do back when you had started dating.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” he whispers back, and you can finally hear genuineness in his voice. “You’re everything to me, baby, and I won’t lose you.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on Hockey,” you explain, watching as your tears stain his shirt. “I’m just asking you to take care of yourself. Connor, I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” he kisses your cheek, the first time his lips touch you in more than two weeks. “I’m so sorry.”

You listen to his heartbeat and sigh, choosing not to say anything. You know the only way you can find out if he’s being genuine or not is with time, because only it will tell if you’re fixable or not.

But as you let yourself sleep close to his body that night, losing yourself between the sheets and his arms, you can finally breathe again.

Because he said he’ll try, and Connor Bedard always tries his hardest with everything.

[chiefdirector]

Predicting - Tim Bradford | The Rookie

"I don't want to talk about it," (Y/N) said, trying to move away from her husband. She was, however, unsuccessful in her attempt as he grabbed her arm. "Let me go, Tim."

He dropped his grip, "Don't you see the correlation? It's blatant. Dyer has made her move."

"I'm aware of that. Doesn't mean I want to talk about it though."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" She said as her gaze hardened. "Like I don't care, it's because I can't. Not right now. She wants me to care, to play her game; I refuse, Tim. I'm not going to be a pawn anymore."

"So you're going to do nothing?" he asked incredulously, almost in disbelief that he had to ask the question to begin with.

"Exactly." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tim tried to hide his dumbfounded expression but (Y/N) caught on quickly. "Think about it, babe. Why would she go through all this effort? To taunt me, first.." (Y/N) paused, finally letting her wall of apathy crumble. "First my brother, now she tries to provoke me with this mess."

"So you're not reacting, at all? What makes it worse?"

"That's what I'm counting on." She said before making her way back to her desk, leaving Tim no room to argue.

—

"You were right."

Tim's voice broke the silence surrounding (Y/N). They had not exchanged words since earlier in the day. Chen helped Tim stew on (Y/N)’s plan, and after he had calmed down, even he could admit that it was a good plan. All they would do otherwise was entertain the criminal.

(Y/N) looked up at his words, briefly moving her attention away from the laptop screen in front of her. She knew that she didn't need to verbally acknowledge his statement, instead opting to pat the space on the couch beside her, beckoning him over.

It only took a moment for Tim to settle in her side before she turned the screen so he could see what she was looking at.

"I've been looking into Dyer's history, known contacts, her usual M.O. Something about her actions now didn't seem to align with the intel we already had on her. So I did some digging, and I was right, it isn't the same."

"Right..." he trailed off.

"Rosalind Dyer plays to win, and this battle could be infinite. She's already on death row, so there isn't anything that she could lose, or gain from this."

Tim hummed, prompting her to continue. "There is no conceivable outcome where she lands victorious. She doesn't want anything; this is a means to an end."

Before she could continue her train of thought any further, Tim's phone rang. Gesturing for (Y/N) to wait, he grabbed his cell and answered it. (Y/N) had thought nothing of it, beginning to pick at her nails when Tim's concerned voice brought her attention back to him.

Questioningly, she raised her eyebrow at him as he continued to talk. Although she wasn't left to wonder for long before he hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"What happened? Is something wrong?" She asked, moved forward to place her hand on his.

"We're testing your theory out now, the Department of Corrections are preparing to transport Dyer to the station. She's agreed to show the location of more of her victims."

"When?"

"She's spending the night in one of our cells, ready to start early tomorrow."

She took a moment to digest the new information. "I'm not going with her. I don't think any contact is a good idea.'

"I agree, but Grey doesn't."

"What?"

"That was him on the phone," Tim sighed, "He wants you to escort her."

"Great," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she began to make a game plan for tomorrow. Although try as she might, (Y/N) could not seem to rid herself of the pit that had begun to grow in the bottom of her stomach.

She knew that nothing could happen, not yet anyways, and especially not tomorrow. Rosalind would be in lock and chains, surrounded by the best police officers Los Angeles had to offer, but he ailment did seem to quell at that thought.

It would be far too simple, far too easy for Rosalind to make her next move when she was out of prison. It would be like taking candy from a baby, which worried (Y/N). She was missing something.

The thought had started to make her head spin, but soon that spinning became an ache and it didn't take long for it to turn into a sharp pressure pushing against her skull. She moved to get up and take herself to bed when she felt her blood rush from her head, dizziness causing her to pause.

"(Y/N)," Tim siad, quickly moving to support her, "Are you okay?"

(Y/N) nodded, trying to stabilise herself, "Just moved too fast I think. I'm fine."

She moved to get up again, this time managing to stand. Collecting herself, she tried to excuse herself to bed, but as she approached the door, her body came crumbling down once again, this time she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @omg-its-vixen @agentcable @rookietrek @fluentmoviequoter

P.s if you saw a grammatical error, no the fuck you didnt

[httpsdana]

heyy! i feel bad for putting in a request hopefully ur not busy. just wanted to say i love ur fics sm and hope u are having a great day.

so today im like not feeling myself and upset and wanted to know if u could make a cubarsi fic with fluff.

so i have a science project and im the only one working and we have so much to do and my friends are stressing me. my parents are helping but yk when it’s too much.

so anything with Pau x reader with Pau comforting her would be amazing tysmm! 💕🫶🏽

Heartfelt Equations~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I saw the request and knew I should write it quickly. hope u feel better anon, i know u're gonna nail the project 🫶🏻

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

y/n is staring at her laptop screen, eyes glazed over, feeling like she's drowning in numbers, notes, and complicated diagrams.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, reminding her of the deadline creeping closer, and she can feel the stress building like a storm inside you.

Her group of friends was supposed to be helping, but one by one, they’d left her to handle everything alone. Her family offered what help they could, but it was clear that science projects weren’t their strong suit. She was in this alone, and it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar knock at the door, followed by the gentle creak as it opens. Before she can even turn around, a pair of warm arms wrap around her shoulders from behind.

“Hey, mi pequeña científica,” Pau’s soft voice fills the room, his chin resting on top of her head. (my little scientist)

“You look like you’re about two seconds away from throwing this laptop out the window.” he joked, sensing her overwhelmed situation.

y/n let out a sigh, leaning back into his embrace. “Two seconds? I think I’m already there,” she muttered, closing her eyes to keep the frustration at bay. “This project is impossible, and none of my friends have helped at all. I’m just… I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Pau gently spins her chair to face him, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looks down at her with a soft smile. “Let me see this mess, then. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until we get this done together, okay?”

She looked at him, a flicker of hope sparking in her chest.

“You mean it? You don’t have to—” she started

“Of course I mean it,” he interrupts, pulling her up from the chair and guiding her to the kitchen table where all her papers are scattered. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my amazing, hardworking girl drown in science notes?”

y/n let out a laugh at his words, feeling some of the tension slip away. “Alright, you asked for it. Welcome to the chaos,” she said gesturing to the mess of papers, half-finished calculations, and diagrams that don’t even make sense to her anymore.

Pau grins, sitting beside hee and picking up a stray page. “Wow, you really went all out here. Let’s see, we’ve got… a million equations and some pretty impressive doodles on the side of this page.” He points to a little sketch she'd absentmindedly drawn of a sun with sunglasses.

she blushed, reaching to snatch the paper from him, but he holds it out of reach, laughing. “No way! I’m keeping this as evidence of your creative genius. But seriously,” he says, his expression softening, “you’re incredible for even attempting this all on your own. Now, let’s break it down together, alright?”

With a deep breath, she nods and explains the project to him, pointing out all the sections that still need to be done. Pau listens carefully, nodding along, and as soon as she's finished explaining, he grabs a pencil and a fresh piece of paper.

“Alright, my love. You take care of the data, and I’ll start on the graphs. Let’s tackle this step by step.” he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

They both dive into the work, and it’s like a weight has been lifted. Pau’s presence grounds her, his little jokes making her smile as he meticulously draws out her graphs and even colors them in with highlighters he found in her pencil case. Every now and then, he looks up at her with a grin.

“You know, you’re gonna owe me a big thank-you kiss for all this coloring,” he teases, holding up a bright yellow bar he’s highlighted.

“Oh, trust me,” she laughs, “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after this.”

“Deal,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he reaches over and plants a quick kiss on her forehead.

Hours pass, and the project finally starts coming together. With one last click, y/n saves the final document, and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over her. She slumps back in her chair, exhaling deeply.

“It’s… it’s done,” she whispers, almost in disbelief.

Pau immediately pulls her into his arms, lifting her off the chair and twirling her around. “I told you we’d finish it. Look at you, mi genio. You did it” (my genius)

Giggling, she wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he spins her. When he finally sets her down, they're both breathless and laughing. Pau cups her face, brushing his thumbs gently over her cheeks.

“You know, I’m really proud of you. You didn’t give up, even when it got tough,” he says softly, his gaze filled with admiration. “You’re amazing.”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she smiles up at him. “Thank you, Pau. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Of course you could have,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. “But I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now…” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How about we celebrate?”

y/n snuggled into his embrace, feeling the last remnants of stress melt away. “What kind of celebration did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” he says, pretending to think, “how about ice cream? The biggest sundae we can find?”

She laughs gently, looking up at him with a grin. “You know the way to my heart.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I know, hermosa. And for the record,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across hers, “I love you. Stress and all.”

Her heart fluttered as she reaches up, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you too, my little science assistant.”

He laughs, pulling her in for another kiss, deeper and slower this time. The world feels calm and steady, and in his arms, everything feels perfectly, wonderfully right.